The Briar Patch
by DinahD
Summary: This is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose." Trip, T'Pol, Archer and the crew of Enterprise fight to hold the Coalition together in the face of the growing instability of the Vulcan government and a renewed Romulan threat.
1. Chapter 1

THE BRIAR PATCH

THE BRIAR PATCH

By DinahD

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose." I want to thank Blacknblue for giving this chapter the once over and passing along his opinions.

Please keep in mind that I write slowly, and unlike my first story, this is a work in progress; therefore, it will be awhile between new chapters. I apologize in advance for any delays.

CHAPTER 1: ARCHER

"As Earth and Vulcan prepare to move forward into a new era of cooperation and the Coalition of Planets begins to take shape…"

Captain Jonathan Archer squinted against the glare of the relentless Vulcan sun and stifled a sigh. He hated speeches. He hated listening to them. He hated memorizing them, as a child. But most of all, he hated giving them. The words always looked so good on paper, but when they started coming out of his mouth… Well…

Fortunately for him and for everyone concerned, this speech was someone else's problem; if only it could have been occasioned by happier circumstances.

"...it is only fitting for us to honor the forty-four people who lost their lives over one year ago when a terrorist determined that change could only be brought about through violence and the shedding of blood."

Etienne Belliveau, United Earth's ambassador to Vulcan, paused and cleared his throat. A tall, robust man who stood at the portal of his sixth decade of life, he had piercing blue eyes, pale skin – a rather remarkable feat considering his three-year tenure on Vulcan - and thinning hair which was rapidly turning from brown to grey. Unflappable to a fault, he always projected the supreme self-confidence of a man who was born to a life of privilege.

"We here today," Belliveau continued, "united as one people, want to send a clear message to all would-be terrorists: We refuse to live in a world where violence only begets more violence. We will not tolerate the random taking of lives, nor will we back down in the face of adversity.

"The man who planted the bomb that damaged the United Earth Embassy and took forty-four innocent lives has not yet been brought to justice, but if he is within the sound of my voice, he should take no comfort in that. We will not rest until he has been called to account for his actions. We will not allow forty-four lives to be taken in vain."

As applause filled the air, Archer realized that his hands were moving more from habit than sincere appreciation for the ambassador's words. He was tired, frustrated, and fed up with empty promises. He knew that Stel, the agent of the Vulcan Security Directorate who had planted the bomb, was gone without a trace. The bastard was supposed to have been incarcerated after Soval revealed his involvement in the crime, but V'Las had either had him killed or removed from the planet. Either way, he would probably never be seen again.

From his vantage point behind the podium, Archer slowly scanned the assembled crowd of over two hundred people. He was somewhat heartened to see that representatives from over half a dozen worlds had gathered in the large courtyard on the west side of the United Earth Embassy to dedicate a monument to those who had lost their lives in the bombing. The handsome twenty-foot-tall black granite obelisk – a piece of Earth planted firmly on a rectangular base of Vulcan basalt – was inscribed with the names of all forty-four victims, both human and Vulcan. Glancing at the floral tributes which had been placed around the base, Jon noticed that the flowers were beginning to wilt under the searing rays of the sun. It was unfortunate, he supposed, but it did nothing to diminish their symbolic value. They were tangible proof that people remembered; people still cared.

Why did good men like his friend and mentor, Admiral Maxwell Forrest, have to die on the whim of some madman drunk on power? Archer's eyes began to carefully pick out the Vulcan faces in the crowd. He saw most of the members of the High Council. A few other people looked vaguely familiar; they were probably scientists, government officials, or members of the fleet. How many of them had been privy to V'Las' plans? How many of them had known about the bombing and did nothing to stop it from happening? And how many would willingly look the other way again?

Archer snapped back to reality. _Where did that come from_? he wondered uneasily. He quickly scanned the faces of the people around him, even though he knew that they could not possibly be aware of his injudicious thoughts. Damn it! He, of all people, should have put his prejudices behind him by now. He'd carried Surak's katra, for crying out loud. He knew better than to lump all Vulcans together; they were every bit as individualistic as humans.

His eyes strayed to T'Pol who was standing in the second row next to Trip and the other members of his senior staff. She had proved her loyalty and trustworthiness many times over in the five years that he'd known her.

So had Soval, for that matter. Archer stopped to consider the man standing to his left in the group of dignitaries behind the podium. Who would have thought when they first met that he and Soval would become friends? Now he unreservedly trusted the ambassador with his life. The universe did indeed move in mysterious ways.

Archer returned his attention to the proceedings when Belliveau said, "Our worlds have recently been beset by internal strife. Let us work together, putting aside any unreasoning fears or distrust, to create a stable, secure environment for our peoples. The future rests in our hands." He made a sweeping gesture toward the monument. "Let us move forward in a spirit of unity born of their sacrifice. We will keep faith. We will not forget."

After acknowledging the applause, the ambassador added reverentially, "Now let us pause for a moment of silence to honor our fallen comrades." The humans in the crowd immediately bowed their heads, while the Vulcans and the other assembled aliens continued to look straight ahead or cast their eyes up toward the heavens.

A picture of a smiling Maxwell Forrest, hand outstretched in greeting, formed in Jon's mind, and he said a silent prayer that his friend had found peace at last.

Off in the distance, a lone trumpeter began to play the first haunting notes of _Taps_." When Archer lifted his head, he felt a surge of pride as he saw the members of his senior staff snap to attention. Even Doctor Phlox squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in tribute as the flag of United Earth slowly begin its descent down the staff to half-mast.

When the last notes had died away, Ambassador Belliveau said, "Thank you for coming," and stepped away from the podium.

As those assembled began to depart, Archer said a few quick words to Nathan Samuels on his right and then turned to his left to bid farewell to Soval. Surprisingly, instead of preparing to mingle with the other dignitaries, the ambassador stood, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, staring at the ground in front of him. Not wishing to disturb his colleague, Archer waited patiently by his side.

After a few moments, Soval must have felt Jon's eyes on him because he raised his head and took a deep breath. "I grieve with thee, Captain," he said in a low-pitched voice, which made it clear that he intended for his words to be heard by Archer alone. "Admiral Forrest was a good man and a good friend. I think of him often in these troubled times. His senseless death was a tragedy for both our peoples." When he turned toward Archer, Jon could clearly see his sincerity and his sense of loss.

"Thank you, Soval." Archer looked toward the obelisk. "You're right. He was a very good man." In unspoken agreement, the two men walked over to the monument. Archer ran his hand over Forrest's name, slowly tracing each letter with reverence. "I wish he was here. We could really use his help right about now."

"We must look to each other…" Soval's eyes traveled across the courtyard to a group which included Minister Vaaris, T'Pol, Trip, and Ambassador V'Lar. "…and to those we trust."

Following Soval's gaze, Archer took in the members of the group. Without question, Trip, T'Pol and V'Lar had his trust; however, he wasn't quite so sure about Vaaris. Jon knew that Soval trusted him implicitly, but there was a secretive air about the diminutive Vulcan that Archer found unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, Jon tried to push any negative thoughts from his mind. "I need to speak to V'Lar. I guess this is as good a time as any."

Soval gestured toward the group. "After you, Captain." The two men moved easily through the thinning crowd, nodding to acquaintances along the way.

As he watched his chief engineer interact with the Vulcans, Archer couldn't help but marvel once again at Trip's steady progress in recovering from his bout of depression. True to his word, as soon as he'd set foot on _Enterprise_, Trip scheduled a time to sit down with Jon and Phlox. He didn't offer excuses; he simply revealed what he'd learned during his sessions with Torok and accepted full responsibility for his actions over the past several months. He also promised to meet regularly with Phlox so the doctor could monitor his recovery.

A smile tugged at one corner of Jon's mouth. That was more like his friend, the Trip he'd known for over a decade. So many things now made sense: Trip's refusal to allow Phlox to treat him, his nightmares following his sister's death, his violent – though much delayed – reaction to Sim's death.Jon didn't know how the high priest had managed to corral the engineer and convince him to participate in a mind meld, but there was no denying the fact that it had done wonders for Trip.

When Archer walked up behind Tucker and clapped a hand on his shoulder, Trip's head whipped around. As soon as he saw Jon, a look of relief spread over his face. "Captain." His eyes traveled to Soval. "Ambassador. It's good to see ya." He motioned with his head. "Minister Vaaris was just tellin' us that more company arrived about twenty minutes ago."

Archer wrinkled his brow at his friend's rather cryptic statement. "Company?" He looked at Vaaris. "I don't…"

"A second Andorian ship has entered orbit," Vaaris replied. As always, the Vulcan male, though small in stature, was a dominant force in the group. He turned to Soval. "The High Council will be meeting within the hour. We must find a way to defuse this situation before it threatens next week's joint maneuvers. Will you join us?"

"Of course," Soval answered. "Has Torok been informed?"

"No. The High Priest was performing a marriage ceremony and could not be disturbed."

"I will see that he is apprised of the situation." Soval nodded to the others in the group. "Excuse me."

Archer caught a glimpse of Admiral Gardner standing at the edge of the crowd with the Andorian commander and first officer of the Imperial Warship _Zibalik_. A month ago, the _Zibalik_ had come to the aid of the Vulcan ship, _Ti'Mur_, when she was attacked by a group of Romulan vessels. Things would have been fine if the Andorians had simply retired when three Vulcan ships arrived in answer to the _Ti'Mur's_ distress call. Unfortunately, Commander Etev of the _Zibalik_ promptly announced his intention to return to Vulcan with the _Ti'Mur_ and her escorts.

The Vulcans were not pleased.

The three men, obviously deep in conversation, did not appear to be a happy group. From the look on Gardner's face, Archer made a guess that the admiral had just been informed that they now had a second Andorian ship to deal with.

From the minute the _Zibalik_ arrived over Vulcan, tensions had mounted. It would be naïve to think that these two longtime enemies could suddenly forget the past and begin afresh, but Archer had hoped that they would at least be willing to try to find common ground in the face of the growing Romulan threat. Unfortunately, to date, neither the Vulcans nor the Andorians had shown any interest in compromise. Even Ambassador V'Lar, who had twice before negotiated treaties between Andoria and Vulcan, had been unable to make any headway.

The Andorians continued to insist that, as members of the Coalition, they had a right to participate in the Vulcan/Terran maneuvers. Archer tended to agree with them. The plan he'd proposed at the first meeting with Commander Etev included scattering members of the Andorian crew throughout various Starfleet vessels. They would have no direct contact with the Vulcans; in fact, the Vulcans might not even be aware they were present. Jon thought it was logical; the Vulcans, when they learned about it, did not. Now, with the arrival of the second Andorian ship, he doubted if Surak himself could propose a plan that would find favor with the Vulcans.

Archer turned to V'Lar and saw his concern mirrored on her face. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked tensely.

"There is always cause for hope, Captain. We must just keep trying. I have a meeting scheduled with the Andorians later this afternoon. I am sure that…" Archer suddenly saw her face darken. "This could be a problem," she said tightly.

Through the dispersing crowd, Archer could see Admiral Kiran, commander of the Vulcan fleet, Minister Sulin, an ultra-conservative member of the High Council, and two other Vulcans he did not know, bearing down on the Andorians. In response to the advancing group, Archer saw Admiral Gardener widen his stance and fold his arms across his chest as though he'd just received the message, "Prepare to be boarded."

"Trip…T'Pol, come with me." Archer motioned to his officers. As he started to move, he took a quick look around but he couldn't locate Lieutenant Reed. He would have felt better having Malcolm nearby, given the situation, but they'd just have to manage without him.

Dodging several minor embassy officials, a Denobulan female, and a group of officers from _Intrepid_, Archer hurried forward. As he drew up next to Gardner, he heard the admiral say, "This is neither the time nor the place for this, Admiral Kiran."

Kiran puffed out his chest. "This will only take a moment. We want to make the High Council's position perfectly clear. Under no circumstances will we accede to the Andorians' demands."

Commander Etev, took a step forward, but Archer's arm shot out, blocking his way. Pushing Archer's arm aside, Etev, antennae alert, drew himself up to his full height and growled, "You are a fool, Vulcan. We have made no demands. We only want what is our due." He spoke in a carefully controlled voice, but his dark eyes glowed like coals banked low, waiting to burst into flames.

The rheumy eyes of Minister Sulin stared back at the Andorian. There was a determined set to the old man's pinched and withered face that made it clear that he, too, would not be swayed. "We will never allow Andorians to participate in maneuvers that could give them access to classified information. Their protestations of cooperation are a sham."

"The Andorians have only asked to be included," Gardner said. "That is hardly an unreasonable request. They have not asked for access to Vulcan ships nor have they requested an exchange of information. As members of the Coalition, they have a right to prepare militarily, just as we do. They have a right to know that we, as allies, will support them."

"They have no rights," Sulin hissed. "Not here on Vulcan." His eyes slid toward Gardner. "Are you aware, Admiral, that a second Andorian ship has arrived?"

For an instant, Gardner looked slightly uncomfortable, but he quickly covered his lapse, assuming the no-nonsense face of a seasoned bridge officer. "I'm aware of that fact. The animosity between your species is understandable, given your history, but you have to admit that in this instance the Andorians have given you no reason to think that they have hostile intentions."

"Perhaps we should ask Commander Etev if he knows why the second ship is in orbit over our planet," T'Pol said quietly. "They may have a perfectly acceptable reason for being here."

"You have spent too much time with humans," Sulin sneered. Archer couldn't help but notice that the old man's hand trembled as he pointed a bony finger accusingly at T'Pol. "Have you forgotten how many of our people have died at the hands of the Andorians? Have you forgotten their threats?"

"I have not forgotten," T'Pol responded. "But times have changed. That necessitates that we must change as well."

"For all we know, these two ships could be the vanguard for an invasion fleet. The Andorians are ruthless. They will inveigle the humans into betraying us. They will steal our tactics…our classified information and then they will attack."

At first, Archer thought that the Vulcans would be made uncomfortable by Sulin's impassioned words, but they seemed to take it in stride. Perhaps they understood that his age was working against him. Archer looked closely at Sulin. He was obviously suffering from some sort of wasting illness. Vulcan medicine was quite advanced. There ought to be something their doctors could do to help the old man.

"We do not want or need your secrets, Vulcan," Commander Etev stated resolutely. "We came here looking for help against a common enemy. We only ask to be treated as equals. We have no wish to be relegated to the foot of the table, begging for crumbs from the plates of our so-called allies."

Completely disregarding Etev, the stouter of the two unidentified Vulcan men addressed Admiral Gardner. "Minister Sulin may be a bit…overzealous, but that does not mean that we should disregard his words. He has correctly reasoned that it is only logical for us to exercise caution. We have a great deal to lose if the Andorians are not dealing with us in good faith."

Archer didn't know who this guy was, but it really didn't matter. He'd heard it all before. No torture devised by man could hold a candle to trying to negotiate with the Vulcans. There was no give and take. Whenever they were asked to compromise they simply dug in their heels and trotted out that old warhorse, "logic." It wasn't logical to do this; it wasn't logical to that; it wasn't logical to some other damned thing. Hadn't these people ever heard of common sense?

"I understand your position," Archer said, trying to maintain his composure, "but like it or not, the Vulcan High Council did agree to join the Coalition. The Andorians are your allies. You may not trust them, but you at least owe them a modicum of respect."

"Anything done can be undone," Admiral Kiran said frostily. "Do not lose sight of that."

Archer was about to respond when Ambassador V'Lar brushed past him, placing herself between the Andorians and her fellow Vulcans. "Please come with me, Commander Etev." She motioned toward the front entrance of the United Earth Embassy; the pair of ornately etched metal doors stood only about twenty feet away. "Admiral Gardner, will you join us?"

Suddenly reminded of the very public setting for their conversation, Archer took a look around. Their small group had attracted quite a bit of attention. Even now the embassy guards were quietly trying to disperse the curious onlookers. Archer swore under his breath. He should have seen what was all too apparent to V'Lar. This confrontation could only take a bad situation and make it worse.

"Be careful what you promise, V'Lar," Kiran said. "You do not speak for Vulcan."

"Neither do you, Admiral," V'Lar replied in a no-nonsense tone of voice. With her grey hair and plump figure, the ambassador might appear to be little more than someone's aging grandmother, but Archer was well aware of the sharp mind and iron will that lurked beneath her gentle demeanor. "The High Council has empowered me to negotiate with the Andorians. I will do what I think is best."

"You may negotiate, but it will change nothing." Kiran – a bull of man, barrel-chested with broad shoulders and steel grey hair – motioned toward his three colleagues. "We speak for the majority on the Council."

V'Lar turned her back on Kiran and, motioning again toward the front entrance of the building, said, "Gentlemen."

This time Admiral Gardner was quick to go to her aid. Between the two of them, they finally succeeded in herding the two angry Andorians into the embassy.

As soon as the Andorians were out of earshot, Vaaris moved forward to take Gardner's place at Archer's side. "That was unworthy of you," he quietly said to his fellow Vulcans. "It was inappropriate to undermine V'Lar's authority when she is working to secure the safety and security of Vulcan."

"Don't fool yourself, Vaaris," Kiran replied. "We are the ones who are working for the safety and security of Vulcan. We will not be led like animals to the slaughter."

"And what about the Romulans?"

"The Romulans do not have ships circling overhead. The Andorians do." Apparently needing to have the last word, Kiran turned on his heel. "Out of my way, human," he said as he pushed past Trip and stalked away. Archer was surprised by the self-satisfied look that spread over Sulin's wizened features as he followed Kiran.

Archer barely had time to process what had just happened when he saw his first officer stiffen. Following her line of sight, he saw Koss striding towards them.

When the young Vulcan reached the group, he raised his hand in the ta'al, the traditional Vulcan salute, and said, "Live long and prosper, gentlemen." Koss' eyes locked on his former wife. "T'Pol."

Following proper etiquette, Archer returned the salute, even though he doubted if Koss really noticed. "Peace and long life. I believe you know my chief engineer, Commander Tucker."

"We've met."

Trip nodded his head stiffly in recognition. The engineer's face remained impassive as he quietly took a step closer to T'Pol. Knowing his friend as well as he did, Jon could see Trip's thoughts clearly reflected in his eyes: No trespassing.

Obviously Koss didn't get the message because he allowed his gaze to linger on and over T'Pol far longer than necessary. When she finally shifted her weight uncomfortably, Koss turned his attention to Archer.

"We meet again, Captain. I see you've met my father."

Archer's gaze immediately shifted to the two unidentified Vulcan males. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced."

Koss glanced questioningly at Vaaris before saying, "That oversight can be corrected. I would like to introduce the two newest members of the High Council." Koss pointed to the man whose build was very similar to his own. "This is my father, Minister Herac. The gentleman to his right is Minister Tel. Father…Minister Tel, this is Captain Archer of the starship _Enterprise_."

_That's just great_, Jon thought as he plastered a smile on his face. _Two_ _new members of the Council and they're both in tight with the conservative faction. Damn! Things weren't already tough enough_.

Aloud, Archer said, "It's an honor, Ministers. I look forward to working with both of you."

Herac took a moment to study Archer. "My son has told me about you, Captain. Vulcan owes you a debt of gratitude for the part you played in returning the Kir'Shara to us."

"I was glad I could help. We couldn't have succeeded, however, without your son."

"So I understand."

Archer suddenly realized how awkward this must be for T'Pol. Koss seemed to be unable to keep his eyes off her. Fortunately, as far as Jon could tell, there didn't seem to be anything lascivious in his gaze. Archer glanced at Trip, who stood rigidly still, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He could practically hear his friend's teeth grinding together.

"T'Pol, Ambassador V'Lar may need some help with the Andorians." He glanced at his chief engineer. "Trip, go with her. I want you to find Ambassador Belliveau and ask him to do what he can to help. I'll join you in a few minutes."

T'Pol's features never changed, but the look of relief in her eyes was unmistakable. "As you wish." She gracefully executed the ta'al. "Peace and long life."

Minister Tel raised his hand in response, but Herac continued to stare straight ahead. That, however, wasn't surprising. From the outset, he had refused to acknowledge the existence of his former daughter-in-law. T'Pol gave a quick nod of recognition to Koss, but before he could reply, she turned and headed toward the entrance to the embassy, with Tucker close beside her.

Archer watched as Trip motioned to Major Luvan, his Vulcan bodyguard, and the lanky member of the Security Ministry immediately walked over and joined the two commanders as they disappeared inside the embassy. The Security Ministry had assigned Luvan to guard Trip when an attempt was made on his life. Over the past four weeks, Archer had had several opportunities to observe the major. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Trip was in very capable hands. Jon made a mental note to thank the Vulcan someday. Knowing that someone was watching over Trip left him with one less thing to worry about.

"Koss." The decided edge in Herac's voice got Archer's attention. "You will do well to exercise more care in how you behave around that woman. Thankfully, she is no longer your wife. You are well rid of her."

"Yes, Father."

Koss gave every appearance of being a dutiful son, but Archer couldn't help but wonder what was really going on behind that emotionless Vulcan facade. It was obvious that he was still interested in T'Pol. So why had their marriage ended? Who had really made the decision to seek a divorce: Koss or his father?

Quickly stepping in to fill the uncomfortable lull in the conversation that followed this exchange, Minister Tel said, "We know of your friendship with the Andorians, Captain."

Until now, Tel had virtually faded into the background. A nondescript man, he had mousey brown hair cut in the traditional Vulcan style and blue eyes that appeared to have faded from too many years of exposure to the unforgiving rays of the sun. He was the same height as Herac, but he somehow managed to appear smaller – a middle-aged man whose olive green robes seemed ready to swallow him up.

"We understand your desire to accede to their demands," Tel continued, "but the time is not yet right. We must first lay the proper groundwork. Acceptance will undoubtedly take many years, but…"

"With all due respect, Minister," Archer interrupted, "I thought the Andorians took care of the groundwork when they rescued the _Ti'Mur_. Like it or not, Ambassador V'Lar and everyone on that ship owe their lives to the Andorians. Believe me, they are not the enemy."

"Perhaps." Tel pursed his lips. "However, as Minister Herac so ably stated, logic dictates that the High Council must exercise caution. This could only be a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security."

Archer's face evidently reflected his growing frustration because Vaaris immediately put a halt to any further discussion. "We'll talk about this further, gentlemen, when the Council meets. Captain Archer, you probably want to join Ambassador V'Lar."

Gratefully, Archer nodded his head and quickly made his good-byes, exchanging a few extra words with Koss before he walked away. Much to his surprise, Vaaris decided to accompany him.

When they neared the embassy's imposing front doors, the Vulcan came to a halt. "A moment, Captain. Before I take my leave, I would like to say a few words to you." Gesturing past the uniformed guards, who stood at attention on either side of the double doors, he pointed towards a stone bench which was situated near the far corner of the building.

Still on edge and eager to get out of the sweltering heat, Archer tried to keep his response reasonably civil. "Sure. Why not." He led the way over to the bench but saw no need to sit down. He didn't intend to be here that long. Once again, he had to remind himself to cast his eyes slightly downward. He had difficulty thinking of Vaaris as anything but a large, overpowering man. "You've got my full attention, Minister. Go ahead."

Vaaris glanced around quickly to be sure that no one was within hearing distance. "Do not judge Minister Sulin too harshly. He is a very sick man who only has a short time to live. He does not mean to give offense, but his mind is focused solely on the loss of his son, who was killed in a skirmish with the Andorians. It happened over a century ago, but in Sulin's mind the memory is still fresh."

Jon didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. "I'm sorry," he murmured sympathetically. "I understand how the death of a loved one can weigh on a person's mind."

This time it was Archer's turn to look around. What he had to say now didn't need an audience. "Sulin's feelings are perfectly understandable, but what about the others? Why are they so hellbent to ignore what the Andorians can bring to the Coalition? I've fought the Romulans. I have a pretty good idea of what they're capable of doing. If we're going to stand a chance of keeping them out of this sector, we're going to need the help of all our allies, the Andorians included."

"I agree with you, Captain. The Romulans are a formidable foe, but they have not left an open wound across Vulcan society in the same way the Andorians have. I fear that Vulcans are very slow to accept change. My people still see the Andorians as the enemy and they are deeply distrustful of them." Vaaris must have noticed Archer's dissatisfaction because he added, "That does not mean that those of us who understand the magnitude of the growing Romulan threat will idly stand by and do nothing. We will do all we can to change the opinions of the members of the High Council and the people at large."

"You might start by taking a little more care when you appoint new members to the High Council. Herac and Tel are going to side with Kiran, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Were any other ministers appointed – anyone who will support you and T'Pau in the Council?"

"No. Herac took the seat left vacant when Speth was killed. Minister Tel is filling the seat of a man who was closely aligned with V'Las; he disappeared at the same time as the Administrator and has not been seen or heard of since."

"That wasn't too smart, Vaaris." Archer struggled to keep his growing frustration in check. "How do you expect to accomplish anything if you can't control the Council?"

"Council members are selected based upon their aptitude for governing, not on the basis of their political beliefs."

Archer rolled his eyes. "You might want to consider revising that rule," he observed with a trace of anger in his voice. "How do you expect Vulcan to assume a position of leadership in the Coalition if your hands are constantly tied by Kiran?"

"We will do what we can, Captain. That is all I can promise." Vaaris stood calmly with his hands folded behind his back. The look on his delicate features gave no indication that he fully appreciated what a grievous mistake the members of the High Council had just made.

Archer took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Getting all worked up accomplished nothing. Common sense obviously had no place here – not when measured against tradition, logic, and blatant self-interest. Vulcans are what they are. It was pointless to try and change them.

"I will not detain you any further," Vaaris said. "I know that you still have much you wish to accomplish today. I will tell T'Pau and Kuvak of our conversation. Peace and long life, Captain Archer."

As he watched Vaaris walk away, Jon had to fight to keep his spirits up. Now he had the unpleasant task of telling Admirals Gardner and Uhlani that they had yet another major obstacle to overcome. Slowly, he covered the short distance to the embassy's entrance. A guard was holding one of the doors open for him when he arrived. Although the gesture barely registered with him, he did manage to mumble, "Thanks," as he entered the building. He realized that he only had a few minutes to organize his thoughts before he had to face V'Lar and the Andorians.

"You no longer speak to your friends, Archer?"

Jon's head snapped up, and his eyes searched the lobby for the owner of the voice. Finally, he noticed Shran strolling out of the waiting room to his right. Quickly closing the distance between them, Archer grabbed the Andorian's arm and pulled him back into the waiting room.

"Be careful, pinkskin," Shran said defensively. "I might get the idea that you aren't glad to see me."

Archer came to a halt when they reached the center of the room and planted his feet firmly on the seal of United Earth, which was woven into the plush dark blue carpet. "I'm not," he snapped, "if you're in command of the ship that just entered orbit. Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused?"

A look Jon could only describe as shame passed over the Andorian's face. Caught off guard, Archer asked, "What is it?" He took a moment to study Shran, but the Andorian refused to meet his eye. "What's the matter?"

Without a word of explanation, Shran slowly pulled his arm from Archer's grasp and walked to the far end of the room where he stood quietly, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Shran?" Jon felt his anger drain away as he followed his friend, quietly taking up a position next to him.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," the Andorian finally responded before taking a deep breath. "You see, it's not my ship." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I'm only the first officer."

"What?" Archer tried to keep the shock out of his voice, but failed miserably. Demoting Shran made no sense. He seriously doubted that the Andorians had too many people in command of their ships that were better qualified for the job than Shran.

"Remember I told you that the Imperial Guard does not reward commanders who lose their ships. It will take some time for me to regain their trust."

"I'm sorry, Shran," Archer said sincerely. "I wish there was something I could do to help. You deserve better."

"Don't let it concern you." Shran looked over his shoulder at Archer and smiled ruefully. "What's done is done."

"So why are you here?"

"I thought that would be obvious even to a human. We're here to assist with the negotiations. Andoria wants to be included in these maneuvers of yours."

Archer sighed. "You and I both know that isn't going to happen – not now, and probably not for some time to come. We've been in negotiations for almost a month, trying to get the Vulcans to see reason. They simply won't budge."

"You're the man who's orchestrating this Coalition, Archer. Use your influence to…"

"You aren't listening, Shran. I have virtually no influence here on Vulcan. The conservatives are in control of the government. As for the joint maneuvers, Admiral Kiran is the man in charge and, believe me, he has no love for the Andorians. He'll do everything in his power to keep your people out."

"Kiran." Shran spat out the name as though it was a rancid piece of meat. "I've heard of him. He only wants one thing: a war with my people. Frankly, I'm surprised that he agreed to these maneuvers. He has no love for humans, either."

"So I've noticed." Archer scrubbed one hand wearily over the back of his neck. "It's been made perfectly clear from the beginning that there's only one man running this show. Every suggestion Starfleet's made in regard to the maneuvers has been summarily dismissed. We were able to get Trip on one of the Vulcan ships as an observer, but that's about it."

"Commander Tucker is going to be allowed access to a Vulcan ship? That's very interesting," Shran smirked. "Don't be too surprised if it's a freighter. With the commander's eye for engines, I doubt that the Vulcans will let him get a close look at one of their combat cruisers."

Archer heard a commotion in the lobby. He turned in time to see Commander Etev and his first officer storm out of the building.

This time it was Shran's turn to sigh. "It appears as though the negotiations are not going well."

For a split second Archer considered chasing after the Andorians, but just then he saw Ambassador V'Lar walk into the lobby. Glancing into the waiting room, she caught sight of Jon. He took a couple of steps toward her, but she shook her head. One look at her face told him everything he needed to know: she hadn't been able to repair the damage done by Kiran and his cronies. Without uttering a word, V'Lar folded her arms and walked quietly out of the embassy.

"It looks as though I may have come too late," Shran murmured.

Still reeling from V'Lar's failure to make any headway with the Andorians, Archer whipped around to face Shran.

"I've had just about enough. Either tell me why you're here or get out. I'm not in any mood to play games."

"Take care, Archer. Right now, I'm probably the only friend you have on my world."

"Shran!"

The Andorian raised a hand placatingly. "All right, but you're not going to like what I have to say."

"Spit it out."

"I came here to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"We've brought instructions from the Andorian government. If the Vulcans persist in their efforts to exclude us, we've been ordered to return home. We leave tomorrow morning."

"Just like that you're giving up and going home with your tails tucked between your legs?"

Shran smiled grimly. "Don't delude yourself. This isn't a retreat. We're just…reassessing our position."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Our government has been in contact with the Romulans…"

"The Romulans!"

"Lower your voice, human," Shran hissed as his eyes darted around the room. "This conversation is not meant for public consumption."

Gritting his teeth, Archer took a moment to remind himself that strangling Shran would accomplish nothing – although right now it would be damn satisfying. "Just tell me what the Romulans want," he growled.

"They've offered to negotiate a non-aggression pact."

"That's crazy. You know you can't trust the Romulans."

"As it stands now, we have no faith in the Vulcans, either. At least the Romulans are willing to talk."

"But the Romulans destroyed your ship!"

"And the Vulcans killed my brother!"

Stunned, Archer sucked in his breath. He saw the anger and hurt burning in the Andorian's eyes and knew that what he'd said was true.

"I'm sorry, Shran. I didn't know." What else could he say?

Turning back to stare out the window, Shran quickly got hold of himself. "You'll have to do better than apologies if you want to salvage anything from this situation. You need to persuade the Vulcans to bargain in good faith – and soon."

"I've told you that there's…" Archer stopped in mid sentence when he noticed that two young embassy employees had just entered the waiting room. He was going to ask them to move along, but his scowl did his talking for him. One look at his face, and the young women turned around and beat a hasty retreat.

When they'd gone, Shran said, "As soon as we break orbit tomorrow morning, a ship carrying our ambassador at large and a diplomatic delegation will leave Andoria and head for a secret rendezvous point. Agents acting for the Romulan Star Empire will be there waiting for them."

"Your people aren't even meeting them face to face?"

"Evidently that isn't the way the Romulans do business."

"And exactly who are these agents?"

Shran shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Archer pressed one hand against his forehead and tried to think. "I can't believe your government would do something this stupid." Restless and upset he started to pace. He'd almost reached the center of the room when he whirled around to face Shran. "Think of how this will look to the Vulcans. They'll figure you've been in league with the Romulans all along. How can the Coalition ever function effectively if…"

"Apparently I haven't made thing clear to you." Shran stalked over and planted himself firmly in front of Archer. "We will not be shoved aside. If we are not equal partners, Andoria is no longer interested in belonging to your…Coalition."

Incredulous, Archer stared at Shran. "If we want to keep the Romulans out of this sector, the Coalition is our only hope. We need the Andorians!"

"When you were planning your Coalition, Archer, you should have first figured out how you were going to make it all work. As you say on Earth: The lambs will not willingly lie down with the lions."

"But that's just what you're doing!"

"My people don't see it that way." Suddenly Shran seemed to take pity on Archer and his face softened. "For what it's worth, I agree with everything you've said, but this time there's nothing I can do to help you."

Archer felt as though he'd been poleaxed. Struggling to collect his thoughts, he headed for the closest chair and flopped down on the gold and blue striped seat. "I don't understand any of this. Governments don't just walk away from alliances. Not after all of the work we've put into this."

"They do if they had reservations about the alliance from the very beginning."

Fighting to keep his desperation in check, Jon looked up at Shran. "At least tell me how to get ahold of your ambassador." The Andorian shook his head. "Where is this meeting supposed to take place? Maybe…"

"I've already told you too much. If you want to know more, you'll have to find out for yourself." Shran slapped Archer sympathetically on the shoulder. "I have to go. Commander Thalan will be wondering where I am. I could get into a great deal of trouble if he ever found out how much I've just told you."

"Thanks, Shran," Archer said. He felt like a battered, rudderless ship drifting inexorably into dangerous waters. "Don't worry. I'll keep your name out of it."

"Good."

"I'll try and talk to T'Pau and Ambassador V'Lar. Maybe they can get Kiran under control." Archer knew that he should try to sound a little more upbeat, but he couldn't seem to keep the hopelessness out of his voice.

"I wish you luck. It would upset me greatly if I was forced to face you as an enemy one day."

Archer froze. The thought of the Andorians as neutrals was bad enough, but what if the pact they negotiated with the Romulans went beyond non-aggression? What if they became allies and set out to conquer this sector together? Could Starfleet manage to hold the other members of the Coalition together long enough to try and stand against them? And what if the other species deserted them? What would…"

"Take care of yourself, pinkskin."

Roused momentarily from his thoughts of gloom and doom, Archer noticed that the Andorian's hand was outstretched towards him. He managed to mumble, "Thanks again," as the two men shook hands. When he saw the pity in Shran's eyes, he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Numbly, he watched as Shran turned and left the waiting room. He knew he should get moving. He had a lot of work to do if he was going to try and salvage anything from this screwed up mess. But for the moment, all he could do was sit rigidly, both hands clutching the arms of the chair, while he watched his hopes and dreams for the Coalition turn to dust before his eyes.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

THE BRIAR PATCH

"THE BRIAR PATCH"

by Dinah

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Mystery/Romance

Author's note: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose." I want to thank Blacknblue and CX for giving this chapter the once over and offering some suggestions. Please keep in mind that I write slowly. It will be awhile between new chapters. Thank you so much for the reviews!

CHAPTER 2: TRIP

"You will be late if you don't hurry," T'Pol called from the next room.

Commander Charles Tucker III looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. The face that stared back at him was half-shaven and clearly very tense. That wasn't good.

Today, he was scheduled to act as Starfleet's observer on the Vulcan battle cruiser, _Tar'hana_. Regardless of how uptight he felt, it was absolutely essential that he appear composed and professional. As he'd heard time and time again, everyone was counting on him: Starfleet, United Earth, the Vulcan government, the Coalition. No pressure…in a pig's eye.

Sighing, he ran his hand over the unshaven half of his face. He knew he had to relax, but it was hard not to worry. He was confident of his abilities, but…well… He just better not screw up. Turning his head slightly, he lifted his razor to finish shaving.

"Of course," Trip fretted, "I wouldn't be in this position if Kiran wasn't such a bastard."

When the admiral – because of his deep distrust of humans – had insisted on placing Captain V'Lin on _Enterprise_ as an observer, Starfleet naturally asked for equal consideration. Admiral Gardner had suggested Captain Duvall. True to form, Kiran had vetoed that suggestion. Then, much to everyone's surprise, he'd announced that Commander Tucker was his choice. Trip shook his head. He still couldn't fathom why Kiran had picked him. It made no sense, and it certainly wasn't logical. The Vulcan could scarcely stomach being in the same room with him.

"You know that Captain Archer wants to see you before you leave for the _Tar'hana_," Tpol called. This time there was a warning tone in her voice.

For a split second Trip felt rather childish. He could have been ready twenty minutes ago, but he'd dragged his feet. This was an important day – a day for which he'd been preparing for over a month – and he wanted his wife here with him, not at her station on the bridge. Through their bond, he knew that T'Pol was aware of his procrastination and, in this instance, was willing to indulge him.

"Give me another minute," he called. "I'll be right with ya."

When he felt the inner tension begin to build again, he decided that he needed to think of something else – something pleasurable – to take his mind off his problems. Of course, the choice of subject matter was easy. Pleasure had become synonymous with T'Pol.

Having finished shaving, Trip laid his razor down and, placing his right hand over the IDIC medallion that lay concealed beneath his blue Starfleet-issue undershirt, allowed his mind to drift back to the day when he and T'Pol had finally left their separate rooms at the United Earth Embassy on Vulcan and returned to _Enterprise_. There had been no time for a palm tree in cargo bay three, but T'Pol had kept her promise to him, giving him a honeymoon he'd remember vividly till the day he died.

Trip closed his eyes and savored the memory of the first night they'd spent together as husband and wife. T'Pol came to him naked, with the body of a goddess and a look of pure passion in her eyes. As he ran his hands slowly along her body, her skin was satin beneath his fingertips. Moaning softly, she claimed his mouth with an urgency that surprised them both. Quickly pulling her close, he reveled in the feel of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. When he began to nibble slowly along her neck, savoring the marvelous flavor of her, she moved her hand between their bodies and began to stroke…

Damn! When he felt the blood begin to rush south, he realized that daydreaming was a bad idea.

Shifting restlessly, Trip quickly splashed cold water on his face. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking a cold shower, but there wasn't time. Obviously, any further thoughts of marital bliss would have to wait until he'd finished his stint on the _Tar'hana_. After toweling off, he ran a comb through his hair and put on his black uniform shirt, taking time to fasten only the bottom three buttons.

Exiting the bathroom, he had to pull up short to keep from plowing into T'Pol, who stood right outside the door. Snatching his uniform from her outstretched hands, he quickly put it on. When he'd finished putting on his shoes and socks, he stood before his wife, waiting for her approval.

After looking him over from head to toe, T'Pol allowed her eyes to linger on his for a moment. There was no pep talk or glib reassurances that would waste their precious moments together. She simply reached up and began to button the remaining buttons on his shirt.

Over the past several weeks, this had become something of a daily ritual between the two of them. Trip knew that T'Pol wasn't comfortable uttering the words, "I love you." But every day, with this simple gesture and countless others, she made sure he knew that she was his.

After fastening the top button, she ran her hands slowly down his chest. "You look very handsome."

Grinning, Trip drew his head back slightly, trying to catch her eye. "You think I'm handsome?"

"I believe that is the term a human woman uses when she wants to boost her mate's self-esteem."

Chuckling, Trip leaned forward and gave her a gentle peck on the nose. "Consider mine boosted."

"Bridge to Commander Tucker."

Trip took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly. "Tucker here."

"The _Tar'hana_ will be docking in five minutes, Commander."

"Thanks, Hoshi. Tell the captain I'm on my way. Tucker out."

T'Pol lightly brushed her hand over the front of his uniform. "Do you have everything you'll need?"

"I've got you, haven't I?"

Trip could tell that a part of her was pleased by his response, but her next words made it clear that she thought it was time for him to focus on the task at hand.

"In less than twenty minutes you will be on the _Tar'hana_. You know that Vulcans do not have a sense of humor. You must not…"

Throwing caution to the wind, Trip pulled her close and kissed her. When their lips parted, he murmured, "I'll do my best to make you proud."

"I know you will." When a damp lock of hair fell across his forehead, she lovingly brushed it back into place. "We must go."

Placing his left hand on the small of her back, Trip guided her to the door and then stood aside, allowing her to exit his quarters first.

As they walked down the corridor side by side, Trip tried to push aside the doubts that once again began to intrude on his thoughts, but he failed miserably. Maybe the captain was right. Maybe this was a bad idea. Given his recent problems, was he really ready to represent Starfleet? Was there anything else he could have done to prepare?

No. He gave his head a subtle shake. If he was found wanting, it wasn't for lack of effort on his part. Over the past five weeks, he'd spent every spare minute trying to learn all he could about Vulcan culture and traditions. He'd learned enough Vulcan words and phrases from T'Pol to see him through – God forbid – a total melt down of the universal translator. He'd frequently sought out Soval and V'Lar for advice on the niceties of diplomacy and protocol. One day, he'd even cornered Sirek, captain of the _Sas-a-shar_, and managed to convince the Vulcan that it was logical to provide him with some basic information on combat tactics.

Trip had tried to work his regular shift in engineering and supervise his staff, but there were so many other demands on his time that that was often impossible. In addition to regular staff meetings on Enterprise and his weekly counseling sessions with Phlox, he was expected to attend daily planning sessions for the joint maneuvers and, because of the rapidly deteriorating political situation, there were all-too-frequent briefings with Ambassador Belliveau and Admiral Gardner.

The intransigent stance of the High Council had not only alienated the Andorians, but was also slowing poisoning relations between Earth and Vulcan. Starfleet had already postponed the start of the fleet maneuvers once because of Kiran's bullying tactics. In fact, things had deteriorated to the point where it would take very little for relations between the two species to break down completely.

The Coalition wasn't faring much better. Despite the best efforts of Starfleet Security and the Vulcan Ministry of Security, word of the Andorians' departure and their clandestine meeting with agents of the Romulan Star Empire had mysteriously leaked out, threatening to further destabilize the entire sector. The Tellarites, now firmly in the Coalition camp, were threatening to go to war with Andoria unless the Andorians cancelled their negotiations with the Romulans. This created a sticky diplomatic situation for both Earth and Vulcan because, at the moment, neither species could afford to allow the abrasive Tellarites to drag them into a shooting war. The Rigelians, on the other hand, were looking for any excuse to leave the Coalition, and the Coridans were on the verge of an all-out civil war as the Vulcan-backed government tried to beat off increasingly frequent raids by the Andorian-backed rebel forces.

It was hardly surprising that several other species that had shown a passing interest in the Coalition had now backed off, choosing instead to carefully monitor the volatile situation from afar.

There was so much at stake here. Others could suffer because of his actions. What if he said or did the wrong thing? What if he ruined…

T'Pol gave Trip's arm a gentle squeeze, snapping him back to reality. "You know that it's unwise to dwell on the negative. You are well prepared. There is no reason for you to be concerned."

Trip looked over at T'Pol. "Thanks. I guess I just need the occasional reminder."

"Perhaps when you return from the _Tar'hana_, you should contact Torok. It has been several weeks since you've spoken with him."

Trip nodded. "Good idea."

At this point in his life, Trip knew that when he needed to talk, it had to be to someone who wasn't going to sugarcoat things. And he knew that he could rely on Torok to speak his mind. Trip still found it a little hard to believe that he was being counseled by a Vulcan – and a high priest at that – but it was working. Sometimes it just paid to go with the flow.

As they turned the corner and proceeded down the corridor, Trip saw Archer pacing in front of the docking port. Malcolm and Hoshi were standing off to the side, warily watching the captain.

Taking a deep breath, Trip thought, _Okay. Here we go_.

Just before they reached Archer, T'Pol lightly touched Trip's arm. When he came to a halt, she smoothly positioned herself so that she was standing in front of him. "The captain wishes to say a few words to you before you leave, Commander. I look forward to hearing your report when you return from the _Tar'hana_."

With her back to Archer and the others, she extended the first two fingers of her right hand. Without breaking eye contact, Trip moved his hand until his two fingers unerringly met hers. For a split second they were alone, the only two beings in a vast universe. Each breath, each beat of their hearts came in perfect unison. When their fingers parted, Trip realized that what had seemed like a journey into eternity had, in fact, lasted mere seconds.

"I appreciate the escort." Trip looked over T'Pol's shoulder and saw that Archer was growing impatient. "I hope everything goes smoothly on this end."

"Good luck, Commander." T'Pol clasped her hands firmly behind her back and walked over to stand next to Malcolm and Hoshi.

Trip's eyes followed T'Pol as she walked away. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. He'd just said a passionate good-bye to his wife right in front of three very perceptive people and nobody was the wiser.

In so many ways, T'Pol was vastly superior to a human wife.

Trip quickly wiped the smile off his face when he heard Archer clear his throat. The no-nonsense look on Jon's face made it clear that he was here as the captain of _Enterprise_, not as a friend.

Pulling his shoulders back, Trip straightened his stance. "Commander Tucker reporting for duty, sir."

He could see the questioning look in Archer's eyes, the same look that he'd seen every day for over a month: Are you really all right or are you going to make a total mess of things?

Each morning, Trip had a standing date to meet Archer for breakfast in the captain's mess. At first, Jon had tried to keep things light – time for two friends to reconnect – but somehow the meal always ended in a game of twenty questions. How are you feeling? Have you been sleeping? Did you see Phlox yesterday? What did he say? You met with Soval. Did everything go well? Each day the questions were different, yet somehow they were always the same.

After a while, the camaraderie had disappeared and only the questions remained. As much as Trip wanted to put a positive spin on things, there was no denying the obvious: the captain still didn't trust him.

But then, Jonathan Archer really hadn't been the same since the dedication of the monument at the United Earth Embassy. As the political tensions increased, Trip slowly began to realize that, inexplicably, Jon saw each diplomatic setback as a personal failure. He was once again turning into the driven, haunted loner that Trip had last seen in the Expanse – a man who had carefully concealed his fear behind a mask of anger and impatience.

"Are you ready?" Archer asked, the tension clearly audible in his voice.

"Yes, sir."

"I don't need to tell you that this has to go off without a hitch if we're going to shore up relations with the Vulcans and hold the Coalition together."

"No, sir."

"There is no margin for error."

"No, sir."

After taking a deep breath, the captain gave a curt nod of the head. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to relax.

"Do you have any questions about Phase 1 of the maneuvers?" Archer asked.

Trip had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. In one capacity or another, he'd been involved in the planning process for these maneuvers almost every day for the past month. He knew what he was supposed to do: be polite, answer questions, relay information when necessary, and above all, don't make waves.

"No questions, sir."

"Give me a quick run down." Hands clenched in a fist, Archer scrubbed the knuckles of his right hand with his left thumb. "One final check."

"Two squadrons – one led by the _Tar'hana_, the other led by _Enterprise_ – will attempt to locate and neutralize an enemy base. For the purpose of this exercise, the enemy ships providing support for the base will be led by _Columbia_. The goals of the exercise are simple: work as unified teams and neutralize the enemy. My role is to be helpful, when called upon; otherwise, I'm supposed to keep my head down and my mouth shut."

Archer couldn't prevent a smile from playing at his lips. "Do you think you can manage that, Commander?"

Trip allowed himself to relax slightly. "After five years of bein' put in my place by T'Pol, I know how to keep quiet around Vulcans."

Slowly, Trip could see the captain begin to thaw a little. Tense fingers relaxed and the clenched fist disappeared.

"Before Admiral Kiran took control," Archer began haltingly, "I was a guest aboard the _Yarhala_."

"I believe I remember you sayin' something about that once."

"In those days Vulcan ships weren't off limits to humans." Trip nodded in an attempt to show interest and keep the captain talking. "Of course, I was still viewed as an outsider, but…well…I have to admit that, on the whole, they did treat me with respect. It was an experience I still value. I…I hope you come away from this with those same kinds of memories."

Archer fondly clapped Trip on the shoulder and, for an instant, the pressures of the moment disappeared. They were just two friends again, comfortable in each other's company.

"Trip, I know how hard you've worked to get ready for this. I appreciate it."

"Thanks, Cap'n. I promise I won't let you down."

Before Archer could answer, he was interrupted by a call from the bridge, informing him that the Tar'hana had just docked. As soon as Archer heard the message, he drew his hand back, all thoughts of friendship forgotten.

Sighing inwardly, Trip walked over to the docking hatch and opened it. The first man through was Captain V'Lin.

Archer immediately stepped forward to greet the stocky Vulcan. In many ways V'Lin appeared to be the antithesis of his mentor, Kiran. Where the admiral was a tall man with the well-muscled physique of a wrestler, the unprepossessing V'Lin was barely of medium height with a soft, round body that reminded Trip of his friend Kov. V'Lin had spent enough time around the admiral so that he had his strut and his posturing down perfectly, but there was a look of indecisiveness in his features – a need to please – that set him apart from Kiran.

After a few quick words of welcome, Archer introduced his senior officers. While V'Lin was reasonably courteous, he made no secret of the fact that he had absolutely no interest in meeting Starfleet personnel. Bristling slightly, Archer then suggested a tour of the ship. When V'Lin immediately shot down that idea and asked to go straight to the bridge, he only took an already tense situation and made it worse.

Trip was relieved when Major Luvan stuck his head through the hatch and informed him that it was time to go. The _Tar'hana_ still had a two-hour journey before she rendezvoused with the other ships in her squadron. After a glance in T'Pol's direction, Trip said his good-byes and followed Luvan through the hatch.

As soon as he set foot on the _Tar'hana_, Trip quickly realized that he'd only traded one set or problems for another. Standing in front of him was a roadblock in the form of a rock-solid, six-foot-tall Vulcan male.

"I am Subcommander Vasic." The voice was deep and impeccably controlled, but there was a slightly superior overtone that set Trip's teeth on edge.

Giving the man a quick once-over, Trip wondered if Vulcans practiced nepotism. This officer, in build and facial features, bore a striking resemblance to Admiral Kiran. It would be just his luck that the admiral had a large extended family, each one more mean-spirited than the next.

Trip raised his right hand in the Vulcan salute. "Pleased to meet you. My name's Commander Charles Tucker III. I appreciate the…"

Trip never got to finish his sentence. The subcommander brusquely said, "Follow me," and, turning on his heel, started down the corridor.

_So much for a warm welcome_, Trip thought. He caught sight of his hand still raised in greeting and slowly lowered it.

Luvan walked up beside him and, motioning with one hand, said, "This way, Commander."

Following along in Luvan's wake, Trip took a few moments to look around. Once again he was impressed by the Vulcans' appreciation for beauty. The _Tar'hana's_ corridors were a pleasing departure from the stark, utilitarian interior of _Enterprise_. The bulkheads, although made from a metal similar in appearance to those on _Enterprise_, were decorated with a simplified version of the Vulcan star charts. Planets, moons and stars were done in muted shades of blue, gold and mauve. Trip had no trouble identifying the planetary configurations depicted in this passageway as being from the Tellar sector. Everything was spare and functional, but there was a surprising warmth – a feeling of being at one with the universe – that his beloved ship somehow lacked.

As they entered the turbolift at the end of the corridor, Trip felt the ship go to warp.

"Could you tell me where we're going or is that classified information?" Trip asked.

Subcommander Vasic stiffed slightly. "We have a two hour journey to our rendezvous point. Until that time, your presence is not required on the bridge."

"Just as long as we aren't heading for the brig."

Trip began mentally kicking himself as soon as the last word passed his lips. One look at Vasic's face and Luvan's raised eyebrow and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. T'Pol had warned him: Vulcans don't have a sense of humor.

Nervously, he began to chew on his lower lip, a not-so-subtle reminder to keep his big mouth shut. He'd only been on the _Tar'hana_ for a few minutes and his mouth was already getting him into trouble. _Settle down_, he chided himself silently. _You've handled tougher assignments than this_.

When the turbolift doors opened, Luvan pointed down the corridor to the third doorway on the left. As they drew near, the double doors slid open, revealing what appeared to be an empty conference room.

Trip, following the lead of the two Vulcans, came to a halt outside the room.

"Step inside, Commander Tucker," Vasic said coolly.

_Well, if I have to be stuck somewhere for a couple of hours_, Trip thought, glancing at the room's rather Spartan decor, _I guess things could be worse_.

Stepping confidently over the threshold, Trip figured that his Vulcan escorts would be following close behind – two bodyguards now instead of one. When he noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to look and immediately wished he hadn't. The sour-looking face staring back at him belonged to Admiral Kiran.

Suddenly feeling the need for a little moral support, Trip whipped his head around in time to see the doors close behind him. The glimpse he caught of the expression on Vasic's face before the doors slid shut didn't fill him with optimism.

Swallowing hard, Trip knew instantly that he had to remove any trace of emotion from his features. It would be a mistake to allow the Vulcan to see even the slightest hint of the inner turmoil he felt. The moment Kiran detected any fear or uncertainty, he'd be finished – a wounded animal ready to be systematically culled from the herd.

"Commander Tucker." There was an icy tone in Kiran's voice.

Turning towards the admiral, Trip clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "It's good to see you again, sir."

Kiran, resplendent in his uniform as commander of the Vulcan fleet, snorted softly and walked over to the head of the large brushed metal table at the center of the room. Pointing to a chair close to Tucker, he said, "Sit down."

Sighing inwardly, Trip acquiesced. He knew this wasn't the time to challenge the admiral's authority. When he was seated, he looked up at Kiran's stern face and couldn't help feeling like the class troublemaker who'd just been sent to the principal's office.

Kiran's eyes burned into Trip's and for a time neither man spoke. Finally the admiral broke the silence.

"I do not like you, human."

Trip stiffened. Any feelings of inferiority quickly disappeared as he worked to control his anger. The son of a bitch just loved to rub it in.

"I don't care much for you either, Admiral," he finally replied, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, "but we have to work together, so I guess we might as well just make the best of it."

After a moment, Kiran nodded his head. "You wonder why I selected you."

"Yeah. You made your feelings about me pretty clear."

Kiran walked slowly toward the viewport which ran along the back wall of the room. For a moment he stood quietly staring out at the stars streaming past. When he spoke his voice was pitched so low that Trip had to strain to hear what he said.

"I will not be indebted to any man."

Momentarily stunned, Trip wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Kiran felt indebted to him? And called him a man? Not a lower lifeform or a barbarian, but a man. That was something he never thought he'd hear from the admiral. Uttering those words must have stretched Kiran's self-control to the limit. No wonder he kept his back turned.

"I misjudged V'Las," the admiral continued in a normal tone of voice. "I made the mistake of believing that he was a man of honor." He waved a hand dismissively. "He was, in fact, nothing more than a vile traitor. I should have seen through him."

"He was able to dupe a lot of people. That's what made him so dangerous."

"He took me for a fool, but it is he who has been reduced to ashes."

Trip saw the rigid set of Kiran's back and shoulders and wondered if the admiral was contemplating what might have happened if he'd continued to support V'Las. Would the coup d'etat have had any chance of succeeding? Or would the admiral now be just as dead as his former colleague?

Head down, Trip brushed his hand lightly over the tabletop. "My Mama always says that things turn out for the best."

"Perhaps. But I do not like to leave things to chance. It is the strong and the resolute that will shape the future."

Trip took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how his next statement would be received. "That's plain to see from the work you've done to reorganize your fleet. It's been nothing short of amazing."

Kiran spun around to face Trip. "Do not patronize me, human."

"That wasn't my intention." Trip leaned forward, his hands folded in front of him on the table. He knew how critical it was for the Vulcan to accept that he was sincere in his praise. "I'm only tellin' the truth. In a little over a month you've managed to get almost thirty percent of your mothballed ships back into service…and with full crew complements. Your timetable for refits has been moved forward. You've started to update your plans for planetary defense. Believe me, Admiral, Starfleet is well aware of the tremendous job you and your people are doing."

Kiran puffed out his chest. "We must be prepared to defend ourselves when the Andorians attack."

"…or the Romulans," Trip countered warily.

"Believe what you want. When Vulcan is threatened, we will be ready."

Trip hesitated, unsure whether to proceed. Finally he decided that this might be his only chance to speak his mind.

"We can help…if you'd give us the chance."

"That day will never come."

"Maybe so, but we'll be here if you need us. That's what these joint maneuvers are all about. Humans pride themselves on helping friends in need."

"Do not try my patience." Kiran walked over to the table and, leaning forward, planted his palms on the tabletop and rested his weight on his hands. "You are only here because of my sufferance. This…exercise will prove to even someone of your limited abilities that we do not need outside interference in our affairs.

"Besides," the admiral continued, he steely eyes riveted on Trip, "you do not speak for Starfleet or for the government of United Earth. This is nothing more than pointless conjecture."

"I know. But it isn't in Earth's best interests to allow outside forces to threaten the stability of Vulcan. If you ask for our help, I honestly believe that you'll get it." Licking his lips, Trip paused. "But you'll have to ask."

"Never."

Kiran straightened up and walked around the end of the table toward the doors. "I do not have time to indulge in idle conversation. You will be escorted to the bridge when it is time for you to put in an appearance. Until then, you will remain here. Is that understood?"

Trip turned in his chair and met the admiral's eyes. "Yes, sir."

When the doors slid open, Kiran took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his full height, and stalked from the room. Subcommander Vasic cast one last haughty look at Tucker and followed along behind the admiral.

Luvan remained at his post outside the door. "I will be here if you need anything, Commander."

Trip figured that was a Vulcan euphemism for "stay put or else."

Deciding not to tempt fate, he managed to mutter, "Gotcha," before the doors slid shut.

As soon as he was alone, Trip restlessly got to his feet. Following in the admiral's footsteps, he walked around the table to the viewport and looked out at the stars, but there was nothing he hadn't seen before. He turned back to look at the conference room. There was nothing remarkable here either. The commonplace room, obviously intended for staff use and not for diplomatic functions, was furnished only with the long metal table and ten uncomfortable matching chairs. A small food synthesizer was inset into the wall to the right and a plaque of some kind hung on the wall to the left. Trip made a mental note to ask T'Pol about the plaque when he returned to _Enterprise_; maybe it held some special significance for Vulcans.

With precious little to look at, Trip decided to put his other senses to work. From the feel of things, he was sure this room was directly above engineering. Since this was probably as close as he was ever going to get to the _Tar'hana's_ powerful warp engine, he knew he was just going to have to be content to use his imagination.

Turning back toward the viewport, he slowly pressed his right palm flat against the inside of the ship's hull and murmured, "Hello, pretty lady. My name's Trip." With the introductions out of the way, he closed his eyes and concentrated, reveling in the feel of the subtle rhythms and vibrations of the engine through the deck plating. Using the techniques T'Pol had taught him, he slipped into a meditative state. Slowly as he focused on the barely perceptible sounds and pulsations which surrounded him, he began to create a picture of the engine in his mind.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

"THE BRIAR PATCH"

by Dinah

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose." I want to thank Blacknblue and CX for giving this chapter the once over and offering some suggestions. Please keep in mind that I write slowly. It will be awhile between new chapters. Thank you so much for the reviews!

CHAPTER 3: TRIP

As soon as he felt the Tar'hana drop out of warp, Trip roused himself from his meditation and took a look around. Much to his surprise, the time spent communing with the Vulcan starship and her engine during the two hour journey to the rendezvous point had left him feeling remarkably refreshed and reinvigorated.

Of course, some of the credit had to go to T'Pol. He'd felt more relaxed from the first moment he felt her presence, as she checked on him through their bond. Although he could tell that she was amused by the subject he'd chosen for his mental exercise, she'd cautioned him that perhaps daydreaming wasn't the wisest use of his time, given the present circumstances. As a parting gift, she'd lovingly made a few subtle adjustments to his conception of the engine, adjustments that only skilled engineer would notice or appreciate. Her visit had only lasted for a few precious moments, but the inner glow he felt from her presence still remained.

With a sigh of contentment, he turned his attention to the viewport. The sight that met his eyes drove all other thoughts from his mind. Off in the distance, six Vulcan battle cruisers were headed his way. _Damn_, he thought, _that's an impressive sight_. Silently saying a few words of thanks to Soval for providing him with images of the other six ships in the squadron, Trip had no trouble identifying the _Sh'Raan_, _Psthan_, _Nyran_, _Tal'Kir_, _Klomak_ and _Kit'es_.

The ships, flying in a circular formation, closed quickly and swept around the _Tar'hana's_ port side. Even though he was now a seasoned space traveler, Trip had to admit to feeling a bit of a thrill when the _Tal'Kir_ glided gracefully past the viewport, giving him a close-up view of the magnificent ring ship. Following in her wake was the Suurok-class starship _Klomak_, which took up a position on the _Tar'hana's_ starboard side, directly in Trip's line of sight.

When all seven battle cruisers were moving smoothly in formation – two forward, two aft, two flanking the flagship – Trip felt a familiar vibration and the ships jumped to warp.

Turning away from the viewport, Trip looked expectantly toward the doors. With the maneuvers underway, it was time for him to head to the bridge.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was still waiting.

"Some observer," Trip mumbled under his breath. "The only thing I've observed is the port side of the _Klomak_." Frustrated, he turned away from the viewport and flopped down on the chair closest to him. "I should have stayed on _Enterprise_. At least I'd know what in the hell is going on."

Folding his arms, Trip fought to keep his frustration at a manageable level. He should have expected something like this. Kiran was going to let him observe all right, but from this lousy viewport, not from the bridge.

And when it came right down to it, what exactly had he seen? Not much. Soon after the ships jumped to warp, the forward ships, _Tal'Kir _and _Psthan_, had left the formation. Moments later, the aft ships, _Sh'Raan_ and _Kit'es_, had followed suit, probably heading out to do a little reconnaissance. That was the grand sum total of his knowledge so far. At this rate, if he ever did get the chance to check in with Starfleet, he'd be able to give his report in about five seconds flat.

He'd briefly entertained the idea of jerryrigging the companel near the door to try to gain access to the ship's communication system, but he decided against it. The Vulcans probably wouldn't appreciate his tampering, and he'd been cautioned over and over not to make waves. Of course he could always knock on the door and ask Luvan to fill him in on what was happening, but what good would that do? Luvan would only tell him that the maneuvers were underway and he already knew that.

No, the major couldn't help him. Kiran was the man pulling the strings. He controlled the flow of information; he controlled access to the bridge. Like it or not, Trip had to admit that the admiral had him right where he wanted him – incommunicado.

Sighing, Trip didn't think that Archer was going to be too pleased with his disappearing act. Then again, this probably wasn't going to be the captain's only disappointment for the day.

Regardless of the lofty sounding words tossed around by Starfleet and the High Council, it was obvious that there was nothing "joint" about these maneuvers. Kiran had seen to that. This exercise was designed for one reason and one reason only: to showcase Vulcan supremacy. Unless blessed by lady luck, the Starfleet squadron would find it virtually impossible to compete. Vulcan ships were faster and their sensors far superior to Starfleet's. Clearly Kiran was determined to prove that Vulcan didn't need allies; she could continue to stand alone.

On a happier note, Trip figured that this whole fiasco would soon be over and he could go home again. Maybe if he moped around a little, T'Pol would spend the night trying to rebuild his bruised ego. That could be a lot of fun.

Suddenly the doors slid open. When Trip looked up, he saw Major Luvan standing in the doorway.

"It is time to go."

"It's a little past time, if you ask me," Trip replied, making only a half-hearted effort to keep the testiness out of his voice. "I suppose everything's over but congratulatin' the winners."

"Your supposition is incorrect." Luvan's face betrayed nothing, but there was a glint in his eye that told Trip that something was up. "Will you come or shall I tell the admiral that you are indisposed?"

His curiosity piqued, Trip rose and quickly followed Luvan.

As soon as the turbolift doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge, Trip could sense the tension in the air. The faces of the bridge crew were appropriately devoid of emotion, but it was apparent that all was not well.

Taking a quick look around, Trip was grateful to T'Pol for briefing him on the layout of the oval bridge. Along the back wall to the left of the turbolift door was the engineering station, to the right was weapons. Following the curve in the bulkhead, the communications station was positioned in front of the weapons console and within the captain's line of sight, if he turned his head ninety degrees to the right. The science station occupied the same position on the opposite side in front of engineering. As with _Enterprise_, the helm took pride of place at the front of the bridge, only in this case, a navigator sat to the left of the helmsman.

Admiral Kiran was seated in the command chair at the center of the bridge, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen in front of him. The viewscreen was larger than the one on _Enterprise_, extending virtually from the ceiling to the deck. Three smaller views along the bottom of the main screen allowed the bridge crew to see a full 360 degrees: the screen to the left showed the _Nyran_ off the port side; the screen at the right showed the view from the starboard side and Trip's old buddy _Klomak_; while the aft view from the center screen showed only the limitlessness of space.

_Interesting_, Trip thought offhandedly, as he continued to absorb everything he could about the bridge. _Apparently the four scout ships haven't returned yet_.

Subcommander Vasic stood rigidly beside the admiral. Trip guessed that that probably meant that the subcommander was either the ship's first officer or just a convenient whipping boy for the admiral. Knowing Kiran, Vasic was probably both.

"Follow me, Commander," Luvan murmured.

As Trip passed the weapons station he noticed that the officer on duty was a statuesque brunette with piercing brown eyes. She was attractive – very attractive, in fact – but she lacked T'Pol's delicate features. He'd have to remember to tell Malcolm to look her up.

Luvan directed Trip to an out-of-the-way spot near communications. The positioning made sense, but he was also a long way away from the engineering station. A happy coincidence? Probably not. There were no coincidences in Kiran's world. There were also going to be no sneak peeks.

Without acknowledging Trip's presence, Kiran gave a subtle nod of his head. It must have been a prearranged signal because the main viewscreen immediately changed from a starry panorama to a view of the _Enterprise_ bridge. Front and center was Jonathan Archer, and he wasn't smiling.

"As you requested, Captain Archer, Commander Tucker is here," Kiran said icily.

"Is everything all right, Commander?" Archer kept his tone even, but the look in his eyes made it clear that what he'd really wanted to say was, "Where in the hell have you been?"

"Things couldn't be better, Cap'n." Trip knew there was no point in making an issue of his confinement. There was enough friction between Kiran and Archer already. "Have you had any luck locating the enemy base?"

"No," Archer said edgily. "So far the enemy ships have managed to mask their warp signatures, but I'm sure it won't be long before at least one of them shows up on our long range sensors. How are things on your end?"

Trip didn't think that Archer, in his present frame of mind, would appreciate a shrug and a snappy comment like, "Your guess is as good as mine." He knew he had to tell the captain something. But what? Looking for inspiration, he glanced Kiran's way…then did a double take. As expected, the admiral's face revealed nothing, but the death grip he had on the arms of the command chair spoke volumes. Kiran was royally pissed. That much was clear. But why would…

When the answer suddenly popped into Trip's head, he bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from grinning. Even with all their fancy equipment, the Vulcans didn't have a clue where the enemy ships were either. That had to be it. No wonder the tension on the bridge was so thick you could practically braid it and trim it with a bow.

Kiran had handpicked the support ships assigned to protect the enemy base. They were all older Starfleet vessels – supposedly easy pickings for the vaunted Vulcan fleet. _Columbia_ was only added to the group at the last minute when Starfleet threatened to pull out of the maneuvers. And so far these puny little Earth vessels had had the mighty Vulcans and the cream of Starfleet guessing for over half an hour now.

Of course, Trip had to admit to more than a passing interest in their success so far. Acting on orders from Admiral Gardner, he'd worked with the engineers on the various support ships to come up with new ways for the vessels to travel undetected. Evidently some of their crazy schemes had actually worked.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Archer asked. The tense look on his face made it clear that he was running low on patience.

"No, sir." Trip took a couple of tentative steps forward and slowly clasped his hands behind his back, trying to buy himself a little more time to think. He had to say something, but as much as he wanted to stick it to the admiral, he knew that politically he couldn't afford to embarrass Kiran here on his own bridge. "Well…things are going pretty much as expected, sir. We should…"

"If that is all, Captain, we have work to do," Kiran said, effectively silencing Trip. "Perhaps you should focus your energies on finding the enemy base instead of worrying about one inadequate officer."

Archer glared at Kiran with an intensity that could have sliced through hull plating. "I don't think you've entered into the spirit of this exercise, Admiral. We're supposed to be learning to work together. I've given Captain V'Lin unrestricted access to this ship."

"It was made clear from the outset that the same courtesy would not be extended to Commander Tucker."

"Captain V'Lin has communicated with you on several occasions. I expect…"

"Captain V'Lin had something useful to say."

Trip winced. _Give it up_, Captain, he pleaded silently. _It's a no-win situation_.

"Now look here, Kiran…"

"I have a contact, Admiral." The dark-haired Vulcan science officer appeared to be unaware that she had interrupted what was shaping up to be a rather heated conversation.

A look of surprise passed over Archer's face. He immediately turned to T'Pol, but she only shook her head.

"Is it one of the enemy ships?" Kiran asked, but the subtle look of vindication on his face made it clear that he expected the response to be affirmative.

"Yes, sir. The readings are definitely those of the Starfleet vessel _Normandy_."

Archer only had time to fix his eyes on Trip and say, "Stay in touch," before Kiran raised his right hand and the transmission came to an abrupt end.

"Keep searching for the base," Kiran said to his science officer before turning to his navigator. "Lieutenant Calar, how long will it take to recall our ships? I want them back in formation. Then plot a course to intercept the human ship."

The lieutenant gave a brisk nod of the head and bent over his console. "At maximum warp, we will rendezvous with our ships in eight minutes and intercept the _Normandy_ 16.5 minutes later."

"That is acceptable. Send the course changes."

"All ships report courses locked in," the young communications officer said, casting a wary glance at Trip. The presence of a human so close to his station obviously made him uncomfortable.

"Go to maximum warp."

"All ships acknowledge maximum warp."

"Tell _Klomak_ and _Nyran_ to increase speed on my mark."

"Acknowledged, sir."

"Mark."

When the ship surged ahead, Trip felt a chill race up his spine.

WARP 7!

He'd often fantasized about this moment, but now, in an instant, he was living his dreams. He owed the admiral a vote of thanks for this, if for nothing else. Feeling the pulse of the ship around him, it suddenly occurred to him that he might be the first human to reach this speed. Wouldn't that be something? Damn! If he could only get a look at that engine!

"Admiral," the science officer announced, "long range sensors are picking up an intermittent energy reading from a small moon point three light years from _Normandy's_ current position."

"Is it the enemy base?"

"The moon is uninhabited and located well away from the trade routes. It is the type of site I would expect the enemy team to select."

"Plot a course from the rendezvous point to the moon."

"Sir," the weapons officer said respectfully, "after we rendezvous, I recommend that two of our ships continue on the intercept course. If the moon is not the site of the enemy base, we may still learn something from the _Normandy_."

"The _Enterprise_ squadron has just changed course, sir," the science officer interjected. "I believe their sensors have finally picked up one of the enemy ships."

"I want to see the situation on screen," Kiran ordered.

_Things are about to get interesting_, Trip thought as he studied the display on the viewscreen. _Enterprise_ had picked up a signal all right, but it was the signal from the moon, not one of the enemy ships. T'Pol and Captain Archer must have come to the same conclusion as the Vulcans – the contact was the enemy base – because _Enterprise_ had surged ahead of the other, slower ships in the squadron. While _Enterprise_ was at a definite disadvantage traveling at only warp 5.1, she was a lot closer to the potential target than the Vulcans. With a little luck – and Captain Archer had a way of getting luck firmly on his side – Starfleet could feasibly get to the enemy base first.

"We have found our target," Kiran replied in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. "As soon as the enemy ships realize that we have located their base, they will fall back, forming a defensive screen. We will not have to track the _Normandy_; it will be there waiting for us. I want our battle cruisers together when we face the enemy ships. I will not be bested by humans."

Seeing the determination on the Kiran's face, Trip suddenly realized how much a victory in these joint maneuvers meant to the admiral personally. This wasn't just a test of Vulcan vs. humans, but a one-man struggle to preserve the status quo. Trip could only hope that when the time came the admiral would remember that this was just a game and not the real thing.

Apparently sensing Trip's eyes on him, Kiran gave the commander his full attention. "Do not make me regret my decision to allow you access to the bridge. You may observe. Nothing more."

"You don't have to worry, Admiral. I know my place."

True to his word, as the minutes passed, Trip watched in silence as the four Vulcan battle cruisers reappeared exactly on schedule and resumed their previous positions forward and aft of the flagship. Once all the ships were back in formation, Kiran ordered his engineers to squeeze even more speed from their engines. _Enterprise_ couldn't compete with that; there was no way she could reach the enemy base first. Everything was falling neatly into place for the Vulcans.

Trip tried to stay on top of everything, but like the skinny little guy at the end of the bench who never gets into the game, he was having a hard time staying focused. Slowly his mind began to drift once again to the steady rhythms of the powerful engine. Even from his vantage point on the bridge, far away from engineering, he could still feel the barely perceptible vibrations. They served as a comforting reminder of the life he wanted for himself – chief engineer on _Enterprise_, husband to T'Pol. Yes sir. There was something about fine tuning a… Wait a minute.

At first the change was so subtle that Trip almost missed it – an infinitesimal fluctuation in the rhythm of the engine. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out the conversations on the bridge. He had to concentrate on the vibrations. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was slightly off.

"If you want to sleep, Commander, I'm sure we can find you suitable accommodations," Kiran said, breaking into his thoughts.

Trip let the admiral's barbed comment pass. He knew that a reply would simply be a waste of breath. Besides, he had to concentrate. If only he was closer to engineering – or better yet, in engineering – he knew he could figure things out.

"Commander Tucker."

Opening his eyes, Trip tried to choose his words carefully. He knew he was going to come off sounding like the village idiot.

"Admiral, would you please ask your chief engineer to check his readings. Things don't feel… Well, they don't feel quite right to me."

Kiran's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "We are six minutes away from our target. I do not have time for the ramblings of a deranged mind."

"Just humor me." Trip looked from the admiral to the engineering officer. "Please check your readings. Something feels off…the rhythm's off."

The thin-faced engineering officer looked askance at Trip. This unorthodox request only seemed to confirm his rather low opinion of humans. Obviously, Vulcans did not consider rhythm to be a scientific method for evaluating an engine's performance.

Finally after a quick glance at the admiral, the engineer focused his attention on his console. "You are mistaken, Commander Tucker. The engine readings are normal."

"But…"

"If you want to remain on the bridge, human," Kiran stated unequivocally, "you will be silent."

Once again, Trip closed his eyes. Could he be mistaken? Was he conjuring up a problem where none existed? The readings were normal. The Vulcans may be a lot of things, but they weren't sloppy or careless.

No. There it was again. It was barely perceptible, but this time he knew he was right.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed that Luvan had moved closer to him. The major probably figured that he was going to have to restrain someone; at this point it was toss up whether that person was going to be his human charge or an incensed Vulcan admiral. Looking at Kiran's muscular physique, Trip decided that maybe it was just as well that the major was close by.

"I know you think I'm crazy, but I'm tellin' ya something's wrong." When Kiran ignored him, Trip focused his attention on the engineering officer. "Please. Just check your readings again. Try the EPS grid," he continued, thinking fast, "and…and maybe the plasma injectors."

When Trip made a move to head toward the engineering station, Major Luvan smoothly intercepted him. With a shake of his head, he made it clear that Trip would not be allowed to go any further.

"Do not distress yourself," the engineer replied. "All readings are normal."

"You better look again," Trip snapped. The change in the vibrations was becoming more pronounced now. "That fancy engine of yours isn't running right."

"Commander…"

"I know what I'm talkin' about," Trip shot back incredulously. "Can't you feel it?"

The engineer looked down at his control panel. He was obviously uncomfortable with the human's outward display of emotion. "Engineering has just confirmed that all systems are operating at peak efficiency."

"Your instruments are wrong." Even to Trip's ears that sounded lame. He knew he should just shut up and cut his losses, but a growing sense of unease spurred him on.

"At least cut your speed, Admiral," he said beseechingly. "Or better yet, drop out of warp. Give your engineers a chance to do their job."

"What is our situation, Lieutenant Calar," Kiran asked his navigator. Trip knew from past experience that the slightly greener tinge to the admiral's complexion was a clear indication that he was struggling to control his emotions.

"We will arrive at our target well in advance of the Starfleet squadron, but only if we maintain our present speed."

The admiral slowly rose to his feet and turned toward Trip. "So that is why Admiral Gardner insisted on placing you on the _Tar'hana_. You were sent here to disrupt my ships and ensure a victory for Starfleet."

Appalled, Trip frantically shook his head. He wanted to remind the admiral that Starfleet had nothing to do with his being here, but he wasn't given the chance.

"Major Luvan, remove Commander Tucker from the bridge." Kiran's eyes remained riveted on Trip. "Immediately."

"Please, Admiral, let me explain," Trip pleaded, as Luvan motioned toward the turbolift. "If you would only…"

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion and the _Tar'hana_ lurched, buffeted by the resulting energy wave. In quick succession, two more explosions wracked the _Klomak_, turning the once-proud ship into a massive fireball.

"Shields," Kiran bellowed, recovering quickly. "Charge weapons. Send to all ships: evasive action." Turning to his science officer, he asked, "Who fired on us? What is their position?"

"I see nothing on sensors." The science officer appeared to be composed, but her fingers seemed to fly over the console with a heightened sense of urgency. "There are no ships in our vicinity."

"Perhaps the enemy ship is cloaked," Vasic said as he hurried towards the weapons station.

"I want damage reports," Kiran ordered.

Knocked off his feet by the shockwave, Trip stared in disbelief at the lower right corner of the viewscreen. _Klomak_ was gone. The debris striking the _Tar'hana's_ hull was all that was left of her. But how? Why?

"There is a minor hull breach on level 4, sir," the communications officer reported. "It is under control. There is structural damage on the starboard side. We have five wounded; none serious."

Trip was vaguely aware that Luvan was offering to help him to his feet, but he didn't have time for that now. He had to think. Ships don't just blow up. Not without warning. If they weren't attacked then…

Scrambling to his feet unaided, Trip shouted. "Drop out of warp!"

"What is the status of the other ships?" Kiran asked, ignoring Trip's plea.

"_Sh'Raan_ and _Tal'Kir_ report minor damage. _Kit'es_ reports…"

_What does it take to get through to these people?_ Trip thought as he frantically pushed past Luvan. Grabbing Kiran by the arm, he yelled, "DROP OUT OF WARP! NOW!"

Before Kiran could respond, the ship was rocked by another powerful explosion. Fighting to maintain his balance, Trip whipped his head around in time to see the _Psthan_ disintegrate in a fiery cloud of smoke and twisted metal.

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

THE BRIAR PATCH

By Dinah

Disclaimer: I don't own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: Thank you very much for the reviews. They're the things that really make writing worthwhile. I also want to thank Blacknblue for giving this chapter the once over and offering his suggestions. Please keep in mind that I write slowly. It will be awhile between new chapters.

CHAPTER 4: T'POL

"What in the hell is going on out there!"

T'Pol saw Archer tense in response to the angry tone of Admiral Gardner's voice. Glancing at the viewscreen, she noticed that Erika Hernandez, the third member of this three-way comm link obviously heard it, too, because she shifted uncomfortably in her command chair on _Columbia_.

"Have you seen the pictures from _ECS Beneficence_?"

"We've seen the transmission," Hernandez managed to squeeze in before Gardner barreled ahead.

"We're just lucky that freighter captain's a lousy navigator. If he hadn't wandered off course, we'd be completely in the dark. Five Vulcan battle cruisers at dead stop! It looks like a damned parking lot out there!"

"Yes, sir." As always, Erika's voice was calm and controlled, but the look she exchanged with Archer made it clear that she was uneasy.

"Seven ships went out, not five. Seven! What happened to the other two?"

T'Pol watched as Archer's hands balled into two tight fists. "We aren't sure," he said grudgingly.

"You aren't sure! _Columbia_ reported that the ships were there one minute and gone the next. Isn't that correct, Captain Hernandez?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, where'd they go? It's been over an hour and a half since you passed along that information. Are the Vulcans in trouble? Or – heaven help us – have they developed some sort of cloaking device? It would be just like Kiran to pick a high-profile event like this to show us up."

"I wish I could provide you with an answer, Admiral," Erika replied, "but given what we know now, I'm afraid that isn't possible."

Gardner pointed a finger accusingly. "That's not good enough. Archer, you've got a man on board one of those Vulcan ships. Damn it, I need to know what's happening."

"So far we haven't been able to get through to Commander Tucker," Archer replied. T'Pol could detect more than a little defensiveness in his voice. "My communications officer has tried to contact the _Tar'hana _for the past ninety minutes, but it's no go. Kiran just ignores our hails."

"We can't get through to any of the ships," Captain Hernandez added, seemingly to draw attention away from Archer. "Perhaps they're unable to respond."

"Can't Captain V'Lin do anything to remedy this situation?" Gardner's eyes moved rapidly around the bridge. "Where is he, by the way? Please tell me you haven't lost him, too. I don't think I can handle any more vanishing Vulcans today."

T'Pol glanced at Archer's clenched jaw and stormy expression and decided it might be best if she was the one who responded to the admiral's questions. "Captain V'Lin asked to leave the bridge not long after the two ships disappeared from our sensors. He maintained that he was not…comfortable around humans."

"Let me get this straight." Gardner appeared to be peeved and perplexed in equal measure. "All hell's breaking loose and V'Lin's looking for a place to hide? Are you sure this guy's the captain of a Vulcan ship?"

"Yes, sir," T'Pol replied. "I believe Captain V'Lin may have had an ulterior motive when he requested a private room. Since he left the bridge, Ensign Sato has picked up snatches of two unauthorized transmissions coming from inside _Enterprise_. We believe the captain wanted to contact his superiors without going through regular channels."

"What have you done to put a stop to it?" Gardner was clearly troubled by what he'd just been told.

"Nothing, as yet," Archer said. "We have a security team stationed outside his door, but so far we don't have any solid evidence that he presents a danger to the ship. Besides, if Ensign Sato can break the code he's using, we may be able to turn the situation to our advantage."

"I see. What are the chances of getting that done?"

"I don't have much to work with," Hoshi answered, a frown briefly settling over her face, "and the code isn't one in common usage, but given time, I think I can figure it out."

Gardner nodded. "Do what you can, Ensign. I'm not crazy about eavesdropping on our guest, but maybe it will give us some clue as to what's going on."

"As soon as Hoshi has anything, we'll pass it along," Archer said.

The right side of the viewscreen changed as Admiral Uhlani clapped a hand on Gardner's shoulder and slid into the chair next to him. After saying a few whispered words to his colleague, Uhlani turned his attention to the two Starfleet captains.

"I want to bring you up to date on the situation here. The _Ti'Mur_ and _Thorsh-yel_ broke orbit fifteen minutes ago and headed in your general direction. They barely waited to clear the system before going to maximum warp. Five minutes later the _Sas-a-shar_ tore out of here like a bat out of hell. Do you have them on your sensors?"

The heads of both captains swiveled toward their science officers in perfect unison.

T'Pol was the first to respond. "Long range sensors show that all three ships are on course to rendezvous with Admiral Kiran's squadron."

"So something is up," Gardner said with a groan. "I was afraid of that." He nervously began tapping his index finger on the table in front of him. With his prematurely white hair and the pronounced laugh lines around his eyes, he usually looked like a rather benign grandfather instead of one of the most powerful men in Starfleet. Today, however, he looked every inch the warrior.

"We've been trying to locate someone from the High Council," Uhlani said, "but they've all gone to ground. The same holds true for representatives of the Vulcan fleet, the Security Ministry, and every other Vulcan agency right down to the Ministry of Sanitation. As a matter of fact, for the past hour and a half the only Vulcan I've seen above the rank of assistant flunky is Commander T'Pol."

"If they're locking things down this fast, the situation must be pretty serious," Gardner said. "How long will it take you to reach the Vulcan ships?"

"Our ETA is 45 minutes," Archer replied.

"_Columbia_ is about an hour away," Captain Hernandez added.

"Tucker modified those engines to exceed warp 5," Gardner growled. "Redline them."

"Yes, sir," both captains answered simultaneously.

"We're recalling the other ships in your squadrons," Uhlani said. "The captains should have received their orders by now and changed course for Vulcan. Until we know what we're up against, we can't afford to be strung out from one end of the sector to the other. As things stand, we're perfect sitting ducks."

"We need answers," Gardner said. "Contact us as soon as you reach Kiran's squadron. If the Vulcans need help, offer whatever assistance you can. Just keep us informed."

When the right side of the main viewscreen went dark, the picture automatically adjusted so that _Columbia'_s bridge filled the screen.

"We have our work cut out for us, Captain," Erika said. A half-hearted smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

"See you soon." Erika motioned with her right hand and the transmission ended.

"You heard the man, Travis. Go to 5.2." The captain walked over to his command chair and sat down heavily. Pressing the comm button on the arm of the chair, he said, "Archer to engineering."

"Lieutenant Hess here, sir."

"We've got two missing Vulcan ships and Starfleet wants us to investigate. I need all the speed you can squeeze out of the engines."

"For how long?"

"About 40 minutes."

"I can't guarantee that we can hold 5.2 for that long, but we'll give you everything we can for as long as we can."

"I guess that will have to do. Archer out."

The captain turned to his communications officer. "Hoshi, try to contact the _Tar'hana_. If she still doesn't answer, try hailing the _Sas-a-shar_ or the _Ti'Mur_. I'm not in a position to be too picky. I'll talk to anyone who speaks Vulcan."

"Aye, sir."

T'Pol took a moment to study Archer. The strain from negotiating with the Vulcans, while simultaneously trying to hold the Coalition together, was clearly taking a toll on him. She wanted to reassure him, but there was little she could say that would ease his mind. No matter where she looked these days, there seemed to be nothing but trouble on the horizon.

Finally, when the silence on the bridge became too oppressive, Lieutenant Reed said, "At least we know the _Tar'hana_ isn't one of the missing ships." He cast his eyes anxiously around the bridge as though trying to draw support from his colleagues. "We know Commander Tucker is all right."

"He'd better be or I'll have Kiran's hide." Archer leaned forward and gripped the arms of his chair. "I just want to get Trip back on board. Maybe then we'll find out what's going on. I almost hope the Vulcans have perfected a cloaking device." He turned toward T'Pol. "But I don't think we're going to be that lucky. What do you think?"

T'Pol didn't know what to say. She knew something catastrophic had occurred. The wave of shock and fear which had emanated from Trip made that much clear. Beyond that, she knew only that her husband was still alive. She wanted to reveal what little she knew, but there would be the inevitable questions about the source of her information. That subject – the bond she shared with Trip – was off limits; she'd given her word. Unfortunately, that meant that she had no choice but to speak in generalities.

"I do not believe my people have a cloaking device," she finally said in a quiet voice. "I wish I could be of more help."

Restless, Archer once again got to his feet and began to pace. "Years ago when Malcolm and Travis got into trouble on that comet and Captain Vanik offered to use his ship's tractor beam to rescue them, you told me that there was no shame in accepting his help. Do you remember that, T'Pol?" He looked over at her and she nodded her head. "That was good advice. Now the tables are turned and we're offering to assist the Vulcans. Why can't your people see that there's no shame in accepting the help that we have to give?"

"Captain, I cannot speak for…"

"Starfleet is getting sick and tired of all this secrecy. Damn it, we're supposed to be allies. The people of Earth are just about fed up, T'Pol. We're tired of being ignored. I hope the Vulcans realize that before it's too late."

T'Pol knew that the captain was upset by recent events, but she hadn't expected such a grim pronouncement. The thought of her people being isolated in a hostile universe was troubling, to say the least. Feeling the need for reassurance, she reached out to her husband, but all she caught were snatches of his anger and frustration. Whatever he was doing, he was concentrating so intently that she was effectively shut out. Sighing, she realized that she, too, would be forced to wait just like everyone else on _Enterprise_.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hurry up and wait.

T'Pol had heard Trip use that phrase on more than one occasion, but it had never seemed quite so apt. Following Admiral Gardner's directive, Captain Archer had pushed the warp engine to the limit only to be forced to sit and wait – it was going on 70 minutes now – once they reached the Vulcan ships. T'Pol could have told Gardner that this would be the result of their mad dash, but she had spent enough time with humans to know that her warning would have fallen on deaf ears. She knew her people. She knew they would not welcome what they perceived to be Starfleet's interference in a Vulcan matter, regardless of the humans' good intentions or their offers of aid and support.

So the Enterprise crew sat…and waited…and watched as the _Sas-a-Shar_ and _Ti'Mur_ circled Kiran's squadron like a pair of great ringed guard dogs intent on keeping nosy passers-by at a safe distance.

Finally, a welcome break in the monotony came when Ensign Sato announced, "Captain, I have an incoming transmission from Captain Hernandez."

Archer stopped pacing and looked expectantly at Hoshi. "Put her through."

"Aye, sir." As she completed her task, all eyes turned toward the viewscreen in anticipation.

Unlike _Enterprise_, _Columbia_ was doing more than waiting around for something meaningful to happen. She had been dispatched to search the area around the last known positions of the two missing Vulcan ships. Her crew was well trained. T'Pol was sure that they would undoubtedly be able to provide some much-needed answers.

The senior staff of _Enterprise_ had managed to remain somewhat optimistic until Erika Hernandez appeared on the viewscreen. One look at her face told them all they needed to know: the news was not good.

"Did you find anything?" Archer asked, wasting no time on social niceties.

"I'm afraid so," Erika replied in a somber tone of voice. "I don't think we have to worry about a Vulcan cloaking device."

Leaning his head back, Archer took a deep breath. When he focused on Captain Hernandez again, there was a look of supreme sadness in his eyes. "The ships have been destroyed?"

"The evidence points to that. We found two large debris fields."

"You're sure it was the Vulcan ships. Maybe something else caused…"

"As soon as we realized the _Thorsh-yel_ was patrolling the area, we knew we were in the right place. You and I both know the Vulcans wouldn't station a ship there without a good reason."

"Did they try to prevent you from searching?"

"Surprisingly, no. When I sent out our shuttlepods, they never made a move to stop us. We managed to collect enough bits and pieces to tentatively identify the detritus as Vulcan." Erika wearily leaned back in her command chair. "I'm not sure that we'll ever be able to make a positive identification of either ship, but I don't think there's any question that they're both gone."

Two ships lost with all hands – so many lives lost in an instant. T'Pol took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Even though she'd known all along that something dire had happened, it was still upsetting to have her suspicions confirmed. It went without saying that she would grieve for the victims, along with the rest of her people, but she could not deny her sense of relief that Trip had been spared.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Archer asked. "Were they attacked?"

Hernandez shrugged her shoulders. "There were two massive explosions. That much is obvious. Beyond that, we can only speculate."

"Have you informed Starfleet?"

"Yes. Admiral Gardner was unavailable, but I talked to his chief of staff. Evidently Starfleet is just as tired of waiting as we are. We have orders to return to Vulcan if we don't make contact in the next two hours."

Archer swung his head around, looking to his communications officer for confirmation.

"Orders are coming in now, sir," Hoshi said quietly in response to the captain's unspoken question.

"We're ordered back?"

Hoshi glanced at the others on the bridge. She obviously was uncomfortable discussing the captain's orders so openly. "Captain, the message is marked for your…

"Is it encoded?"

"No."

"Then tell me. Are we ordered back? Yes or no."

Hoshi lifted her chin. "Yes. In two hours, unless we…"

"…unless we're able to make contact with the Vulcans. Thank you, Ensign." Archer scrubbed a hand over his face before turning back to face Hernandez once again.

"Did the admiral's chief of staff have anything to say about Trip?" he asked.

"I'm afraid Commander Tucker's name never came up."

"Well, that was a bit of an oversight, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps, but…"

"He's a Starfleet officer. He belongs on _Enterprise_, not on some Vulcan ship."

"Captain V'Lin must be eager to return to the _Tar'hana_. Maybe he could initiate a swap?"

The look on Archer's face darkened. Captain Hernandez had touched on a sore subject. "I can't make a swap because V'Lin's no longer on board," Jon said through gritted teeth.

"He isn't." Erika was clearly surprised. "What happened?"

"As soon as we reached Kiran's squadron, the Vulcans transported V'Lin off _Enterprise_."

"If that worked for the Vulcans, why don't you try to recover Commander Tucker in the same way?"

"Don't you think we've tried? We can't get a lock on Trip. The Vulcans are blocking his signal." Archer rubbed one hand over his eyes. Tension and fatigue were apparently beginning to take their toll. "Look, what it all boils down to is that I'm still without the services of my chief engineer. I have no intention of running off and leaving him."

"You may have to. Orders are orders, Captain."

Archer shook his head mulishly. "Admiral Gardner's going to have to give me that order personally."

"If you feel that's necessary, I'm sure the admiral will be happy to accommodate you."

Seeing Archer stiffen in response to her statement, Erika seemed to have second thoughts about the tack she was taking. After studying him briefly, a warm smile spread across her face. "I really don't think you have anything to worry about. We both know that Admiral Kiran isn't going to want a human cluttering up his bridge any longer than absolutely necessary."

Although T'Pol could tell that he was fighting against it, one corner of Archer's mouth turned up. He was still wound tight, but Erika's new approach seemed to take the edge off his tension and frustration. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Besides, a lot can happen in two hours."

"It certainly can." Erika raised an eyebrow and gave Archer a knowing look. "We'll join you as soon as possible."

Archer continued to stare at the viewscreen for a few moments after Erika signed off as though lost in thought, then he turned to his communications officer. "Hoshi, I want you to keep trying to…"

"I know, I know," she replied wearily. "Anyone who speaks Vulcan."

With a brisk nod of the head, Archer turned and headed for his ready room. "Let me know if you get lucky," he grumbled.

Sometime later, _Columbia_ arrived, joining _Enterprise_ in her surveillance of the Vulcan ships. Looking for something useful to do to keep her mind off Trip's absence, T'Pol asked Captain Hernandez if she could be of assistance to those who were processing the debris from the two ships. Somehow it seemed like the least she could do for those who'd lost their lives in the line of duty.

Hernandez was more than happy to accommodate her and, within a very short time of receiving _Columbia_'s scans of the debris fields, T'Pol was completely engrossed in the project. With no time for meditation, she found data analysis to be comforting. Order and method were just what she needed.

After what seemed like mere moments, T'Pol glanced at the chronometer near her work station. When she realized that the two hours allotted by Starfleet were almost up, she felt a cold hand close over her heart. This was all wrong. She had given her word to Trip that she would never abandon him again, but here she was preparing to fly away, leaving him alone on an alien ship, just when he needed her the most. No doubt this was one of the reasons why Starfleet preferred not to assign married couples to the same ship. Where did her duty lie? Did she owe her primary allegiance to her husband or to her ship and its crew?

Taking several deep breaths, T'Pol focused her thoughts on her mate. It didn't take her long, however, to realize that Trip would not be joining her in the white space they shared. Whatever project he was working on was all-consuming. He still sent intermittent waves of intense emotions coursing through their bond, but today she welcomed them. They served as undeniable proof that he was still with her.

With a subtle shake of the head, T'Pol reluctantly decided that it was time to forego any further attempts to make contact with her husband and focus instead on her responsibilities as first officer. With that in mind, she rose and walked across the bridge to the ready room.

Archer admitted her immediately, but when she entered the room, he remained standing in front of the viewport, staring out at two of the ships in Kiran's squadron.

"You're here to tell me that our time's up, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered quietly. "Our orders are clear. Since our hails have gone unanswered, we must return to Vulcan."

After a moment of silence he turned to look at her. "I can't explain it, T'Pol," he said beseechingly, "but I know that if we follow orders and head back to Vulcan right now we're going to miss out on something important. I can't tell you what that 'something' is, but the day will come when Starfleet is going to regret pulling us out."

"Be that as it may, we still…"

"…have to follow orders," he said, finishing her sentence for her. "I know." He briefly lowered his head and studied the deck plating. Finally he sighed and met her eyes. "Okay. Let's get this over with."

Archer allowed T'Pol to exit the ready room first. As soon as he was through the door he said, "Hoshi, inform _Columbia_ that we're preparing to get underway."

While T'Pol proceeded to the science station, the captain walked over to Ensign Mayweather and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "We're going back to Vulcan, Travis. Lay in a course."

"But, sir…" Ensign Mayweather turned his head so that he could look up at Archer. "…what about Commander Tucker? Are we really going to leave him here?"

A pained look flashed across Archer's face, but he quickly tried to cover his lapse with a half-hearted smile. "I think Captain Hernandez was right," he said, giving Travis' shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure the Vulcans will bring…"

"Captain!" Hoshi exclaimed, her eyes gleaming in triumph. "I have Minister T'Pau. She wants to speak with you."

"It's about time," Archer muttered under his breath. With a brisk nod of his head, he said aloud, "Put her through, Ensign."

The elfin face of T'Pau immediately filled the viewscreen. As usual, her emotional control was impeccable, but T'Pol thought there was something unsettling about her, as though some pent-up force of nature was waiting to break free.

"Good day, Captain Archer."

"Minister T'Pau, what can I do for you?"

"It is unfortunate that circumstances forced Admiral Kiran to end the joint maneuvers so abruptly, but I think that it has proved to be a valuable experience for both our peoples. Please inform Starfleet that our ships will remain here for the next 24 hours. While we appreciate your repeated offers to help us, we do not require assistance. You are free to return to Vulcan. We have everything under control."

"Do you really?" Archer replied in a sarcastic tone of voice. Unconsciously, he must have clamped down on his helmsman's shoulder because Travis winced. "In case you haven't noticed, Minister, you're missing two ships. I'd say you can use all the help you can get."

T'Pol was rather surprised by Archer's biting remarks, but T'Pau seemed to be completely unfazed.

"I assure you, Captain, their absence has been duly noted."

"Have you also noted that there are two large debris fields not too far from here?"

"That was unworthy of you." T'Pau took a few moments to study Archer. "The _Thorsh-yel _has served as our eyes and ears in much the same way as _Columbia_ has performed that task for you. I assure you that we are actively trying to determine what happened to our ships."

"So why all the secrecy? We're here, ready to help. So is _Columbia_."

Mayweather must have twisted his body just enough to send a subtle signal to Archer to release his grip because the captain dropped his hand. With his attention focused squarely on Minister T'Pau, Archer appeared to be unaware that he had caused Travis any pain.

T'Pau drew herself up and regarded Archer coolly. "This is a Vulcan matter. We neither need nor desire outside assistance."

"Then I guess we'll just have to find out what happened for ourselves."

"Do what you must. By allowing _Columbia_ to search the area in question, we have already given you every opportunity to begin the process. You are free to draw your own conclusions."

T'Pol could tell by the scowl on Archer's face that that was not what he wanted to hear. She only hoped that he could continue to keep his anger in check.

"All right, T'Pau," he snapped. "You've made it clear that we aren't wanted here. We'll go just as soon as Commander Tucker is back on board."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible, Captain. Commander Tucker must attend a debriefing. He may have vital information which will aid us in our search for the truth."

Archer stiffened noticeably. "If Trip is going to be interrogated, I want to be with him. He deserves to have at least one friend in the room."

"It will not be an adversarial situation. Commander Tucker will not be inconvenienced in any way. When the _Tar'hana_ returns to Vulcan, you may collect him."

"Absolutely not. He's my chief engineer. I'm responsible for him. I have no intention of stranding him on a ship full of strangers, who don't give a damn about him."

"Then we are at an impasse, Captain," T'Pau said. The stern look on her face left no doubt that she was displeased with this turn of events.

Crossing his arms defiantly, Archer glared back at the leader of the Vulcan High Council. It wasn't hard for T'Pol to understand why he was upset. She knew he desperately wanted the Vulcans to do more than pay lip service to treating humans as equals. Now, when a tailor-made opportunity presented itself for Starfleet to prove their value as allies, the Vulcans quickly reverted to their old ways, effectively shutting out the humans once again.

Archer lifted his chin and took a deep breath. "If another human isn't welcome at your debriefing, how about my first officer?" He jerked his head in the general direction of the science station. "T'Pol's a Vulcan. She already knows the secret handshake or whatever it is you're trying to hide from us."

T'Pol hadn't expected this, but she had to admit that she welcomed the opportunity to go aboard the _Tar'hana_. She wanted to see her husband, to prove to herself that he was all right.

"Get this straight, T'Pau," Archer snapped when T'Pau cast a doubtful look at T'Pol and remained silent. "Somebody from Starfleet is going to be there with Trip when you put him through the wringer. You have a choice of Commander T'Pol or me. Take your pick. Which one of us is it going to be?"

T'Pau appeared to be unimpressed by Archer's ultimatum. T'Pol could only hope that she was politically astute enough to see how damaging her refusal could be to future relations with Starfleet and Jonathan Archer in particular.

"If you insist, Captain…"

"I do."

"We will certainly comply with your wishes. I will dispatch a shuttle to collect Commander T'Pol. It will not be necessary for _Enterprise_ or _Columbia_ to remain here. We will see that the commanders are returned safely to Vulcan."

"We'll wait," Archer replied firmly.

"As you wish," T'Pau said and turned her attention to T'Pol. "Commander, we look forward to your arrival." She raised her left hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper."

When the transmission ended, T'Pol said, "With your permission, Captain, I would like to go to my quarters and get ready."

"Permission granted."

While T'Pol rose and made her way to the turbolift, Archer added, "T'Pau probably won't let much slip, but find out as much as you can. And try to keep Trip out of trouble."

Looking back over her shoulder, T'Pol said, "I'm not sure that's possible, but I'll do my best."

"I can't ask for more." Archer managed a weak smile. "Good luck."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

23

THE BRIAR PATCH

By Dinah

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: Thank you for your reviews! They are much appreciated. I also want to thank Blacknblue for giving this chapter the once over and offering some suggestions. Please keep in mind that I write slowly. It will be awhile between new chapters.

CHAPTER 5: T'POL

T'Pol had just enough time to go to her cabin and change into a clean uniform before she was called to the docking hatch. The shuttle took off as soon as she was on board.

From the moment the _Tar'hana _came into view, T'Pol was struck by the marked resemblance between that powerful battle cruiser and her sister ship, _Seleya_. Reflecting back, she knew that once-proud ship would always be an important part of her life. The training and experience she gained during her one-year posting as the deputy science officer had helped her immeasurably during her years on _Enterprise_. Unfortunately, those were not her final memories of the _Seleya_. Even though several years had passed, she was still haunted by the mental images of former crewmates driven mad by their exposure to trellium-D – and by her own loss of control. It was bitterly ironic that the two ships which had figured most prominently in her life would one day meet, and that one ship would be forced to destroy the other.

The sounds of the shuttle entering the launch bay brought T'Pol swiftly back to reality. When she stepped through the hatch, she found Minister T'Pau waiting for her.

"Commander T'Pol, your presence here is unnecessary," T'Pau said in place of the traditional greeting, "but I thought it best to humor Captain Archer." Without further comment she turned and started down the passageway.

T'Pol fell into step beside her. The mere fact that T'Pau was here at all made it clear that this situation was deemed to be of critical importance to the High Council.

"I understand the need for security," T'Pol said, "but perhaps it would be wise to keep Starfleet informed on your investigation into the…problems encountered by Admiral Kiran's squadron."

"Have you been on _Enterprise_ for so long that you have forgotten that we keep internal affairs private? The humans have concerns of their own which need to be addressed."

"That may be true, but do not take Starfleet lightly. The humans learned a great deal during the Xindi conflict. They are a force to be reckoned with. It would be short-sighted to alienate them any further."

"How much does Starfleet know about our present difficulties?" T'Pau asked as they entered the lift.

"They know that the _Psthan _and _Klomak_ were destroyed, but they do not, as yet, know how or why." T'Pol raised one eyebrow inquiringly. "Do you?"

T'Pau's expression seemed to tighten, the lines of tension around her eyes becoming more pronounced. "We are still waiting for a report from the engineers." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied T'Pol. "Preliminary reports indicate that Commander Tucker was instrumental in preventing further damage to our ships."

Feeling her pulse quicken at the mention of her mate's name, T'Pol clamped down hard on her emotions in an effort to keep her face impassive. "I do not find that surprising. He is a gifted engineer."

"Apparently so. It appears that Vulcan is once again indebted to the commander."

When the lift doors opened, T'Pau exited first. Following close behind, T'Pol could see two security guards posted outside a doorway at the far end of the corridor. If the layout of the _Tar'hana_ was the same as the _Seleya_'s, the door led to the dining room used for diplomatic visits and formal entertaining.

As T'Pol drew closer, she suddenly knew that when the door opened, Trip would not be on the other side waiting for her. Struggling with her growing sense of unease, she took a deep breath and tried to reassure herself. Her mate was well; he would be with her soon.

As though she'd read T'Pol's mind, T'Pau said, "Commander Tucker will be joining us in a few moments. He is still working with our engineers." She gave a brisk nod to one of the security guards, and he opened the door for them.

While T'Pol pondered T'Pau unexpected revelation that Trip had evidently been allowed to assist the Vulcan engineers, she took a quick look around. The people in attendance must have just finished their evening meal because the stewards were in the final stages of clearing the tables and removing the dirty dishes. This room, with its walls of deep, rich cranberry red, was more formal than its counterpart on the _Seleya_. The creamy white and burnished gold appointments clearly reflected the important role the _Tar'hana_ played as the fleet's primary venue for diplomatic functions.

At the far side of the dining room, Admiral Kiran was deep in conversation with Captain V'Lin and Ministers T'Lan and Herac. Ambassador Soval sat next to Minister Vaaris at one of a dozen small round tables, which were scattered around the left side of the room. Off to the right, five men and one woman, all dressed in the dark grey uniforms of the Vulcan fleet, stood quietly in front of a large rectangular banquet table, which had been pushed against the wall. T'Pol had no trouble recognizing Captain Sirek of the _Sas-a-shar_, Captain Norr of the _Sh'Raan_, Captain Vanik of the _Ti'Mur_, Captain Ralaan of the _Kit'es_, Captain T'Mira of the _Tal'Kir_ and Captain Tavek of the _Nyran_. Taking one last look at the tightly knit group, she couldn't help but wonder why the officers appeared to be intentionally distancing themselves from the members of the High Council.

"This way, Commander." T'Pau pointed T'Pol toward the table where Soval and Vaaris had just risen in anticipation of the ladies joining them. "I believe Ambassador Soval wishes to speak with you."

Soval motioned for T'Pol to sit next to him. When the four of them were seated around the table, he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "We understand that your presence here places you in a very difficult position, but this was neither the time nor the place for Captain Archer to learn the details of the crisis we are facing."

"Captain Archer and Starfleet already know that two of our ships have been lost," T'Pol replied. "They found the debris fields. They know about the explosions." She was surprised that Soval apparently gave the humans so little credit.

"Yes, but they don't know what caused the explosions that destroyed the _Klomak_ and _Psthan_."

"It is my understanding that you don't have that information either."

"We will momentarily," Vaaris answered.

"We just received word that the engineers are prepared to make a preliminary report," Soval added. "It's very possible that…"

The instant the door swished open all eyes turned to the two men who strode purposefully into the room – all eyes, that is, but T'Pol's. Her attention was focused on only one man, the man whose life was now irrevocably bound to hers.

When Trip caught sight of her, his grim look softened imperceptibly. Without breaking stride, he sent a wave of sheer joy coursing through her mind. She could tell that his need for her was almost overpowering, but he fought to keep his feelings under control. He obviously understood how much was at stake here for Vulcan, for Earth, and for them personally.

Watching intently as her mate crossed the room towards her, T'Pol was only vaguely aware that the other people in the room were moving closer to hear what the engineers had to say. These people held no interest for her. There was only Trip.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he came to a stop directly in front of her chair. When she looked up and gazed into his clear blue eyes, she realized that, against all logic, she'd been holding her breath.

"It's good to see you, Commander," he said in a carefully controlled voice.

"Captain Archer sent me. He's concerned about your welfare." With some effort, T'Pol managed to keep her expression devoid of emotion.

Trip nodded in acknowledgment. "When this briefing's over, perhaps you'd fill me in on how things stand on _Enterprise_." Although he made no effort to touch her, it was painfully obvious to T'Pol that he would give anything to throw caution aside and gather her into his arms.

With everyone finally in attendance, T'Pau immediately took charge. "Please sit down, Commander Tucker." She motioned to a chair at the next table. "Subcommander Tanes, we are eager to hear your report. Tell us what you've discovered."

"Of course." Tanes, the _Tar'hana_'s chief engineer, widened his stance slightly and clasped his hands behind his back. "As soon as we dropped out of warp, Admiral Kiran ordered me to work with Commander Tucker to try to find the cause of the explosions on _Klomak_ and _Psthan_, and to ensure that the other ships in the squadron were not in danger. During a thorough examination of the engines, we discovered that the plasma injectors were dangerously close to igniting. There is no question that they were the cause of the explosions."

"And no one realized there was a problem with the engine or the plasma injectors?" Captain Sirek asked.

Tanes' back stiffened. "No, sir. Everything appeared to be normal."

When there were no further comments, the stocky, powerfully built engineer continued with his report. "The plasma injectors were defective, causing them to ignite shortly after the engines reached maximum warp. A check of the other four ships in the squadron revealed that they, too, had plasma injectors which were dangerously close to igniting. The probability that all seven ships would have the same defective plasma injectors is astronomical; therefore, we must assume that it was sabotage."

"Are you absolutely certain?" Minister Vaaris asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yes. Someone replaced all of our injectors with adulterated ones; even our spare injectors were compromised. Ship's take on injectors as needed rather than replacing all of them at one time. Therefore, for all of the injectors on one ship to carry the same defect would be highly unusual. For that to happen on seven ships – all in regular service and not coming from refits –that is, quite frankly, impossible. Not without outside assistance.

"The simple fact remains that if Commander Tucker hadn't noticed an inconsistency in the performance of the _Tar'hana_'s engine and prevailed upon Admiral Kiran to drop out of warp, the remaining ships in the squadron would have been destroyed in a matter of minutes."

All eyes turned toward Trip as the room fell silent. Shifting in his seat, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable being scrutinized by a room full of Vulcans.

The silence was finally broken by Minister Herac who stated categorically, "I find that hard to believe." He pointed an accusing finger at Trip. "This man is a human. Do you expect us to believe that a human knows more about these ships than our own engineers?"

Kiran stiffened in response to Herac's rebuke. Before Tanes had a chance to respond, the admiral stated, "Vulcan has the best trained, most experienced engineers in this quadrant. We do not…"

"Commander Tucker is a remarkable man," Minister T'Lan said, effectively preventing the admiral from finishing his thought. Her soft, high-pitched voice had surprisingly cut right through Kiran's bluster. She took several steps forward and, pulling out a chair, slid into the seat next to Trip. "Do not underestimate him, Herac. He is far more intelligent than he appears at first glance."

Minister Herac was obviously not impressed. "Commander Tucker, have you ever set foot on a Vulcan ship before today?"

"No, sir." Trip folded his hands in his lap after casting an uneasy glance at T'Lan.

"And yet we're expected to believe that you were able to divine that something was wrong with the warp engine. That is not logical."

"With all due respect, Minister," Trip said, "logic is what got you into this mess in the first place."

Herac folded his arms, shoving both hands up his sleeves in the process. "Explain."

As she took in the rather sour look on her former father-in-law's face, T'Pol hoped that Trip hadn't gone too far. It was unwise to provoke powerful members of the High Council.

"Whoever sabotaged the plasma injectors had you Vulcans pegged to a tee. They didn't just tamper with the injectors; they also did a number on your instrumentation. They knew that if the readings showed that the engines were functioning normally, your engineers wouldn't question them. In this case, logic cost the crewmen on the _Klomak_ and _Psthan_ their lives. I know it may not set real well with you, but there may be times when you just have to throw logic out the window and use a little common sense."

"Commander Tucker is correct," Tanes said. "Our instrumentation was compromised. It…never occurred to us that the readings might be inaccurate." Even though the engineer appeared to be perfectly poised as he stood beside T'Pau, there was something in his manner that indicated that he had been deeply affected by the day's tragic events.

"If your assessment is correct, Subcommander Tanes," T'Pau said, motioning him to the chair next to Trip, "we are faced with a problem that far exceeds the loss of two ships. We must act swiftly to determine how our security was breached and why."

"If I hadn't seen the explosions with my own eyes, I would not have believed this was possible," Captain Ralaan said. Hands behind his back, he stood rigidly straight amidst the other ships' captains, a group which now included Captain V'Lin. "Maximum security was in force on _Kit'es_. A saboteur could not have gained access to my ship."

"I agree," Captain Tavek echoed. "I talked with my engineers and made a thorough check of the security logs. A saboteur could not have reached engineering. My security personnel would have intercepted them immediately after they set foot on _Nyran_."

"I, too, can attest that no one entered engineering," Tanes said. "I questioned my engineers – all of them. I, too, checked the logs. Yet someone was able to switch all our plasma injectors. That is an undeniable fact."

"It's possible if he or she looked just like you," Trip observed quietly. "Maybe it was a member of your own crew."

"No." The word came simultaneously from several people around the room.

"Yet someone gained access to our ships," Minister Vaaris said. "It is illogical to dismiss Commander Tucker's assumptions just because we find them unpalatable."

The door suddenly opened and a sublieutenant entered. Without uttering a word, she walked over to Admiral Kiran, handed him a padd and then turned around and left. Kiran quickly looked over the information on the padd before stowing it in his pocket.

"As soon as Subcommander Tanes gave me his initial report on possible causes of the explosions," Kiran said, "I ordered every ship in the fleet to immediately run a complete check of their warp engines. According to the reports we've received so far, only the seven ships in my squadron were affected. This can only be seen as a deliberate attempt to discredit me and disrupt the joint maneuvers with Starfleet. I will not tolerate such insolence. The perpetrators must be found and punished."

"I assure you, Admiral, the High Council will do everything possible to bring those responsible to justice." Vaaris got to his feet and turned to face Kiran. "To facilitate our inquiry into the matter, Admiral, I would like Captain Sirek to serve as liaison between the Security Directorate and the fleet – with your permission, of course."

Kiran took a moment to consider the request. "That is acceptable. Captain, you will make yourself available."

"As you wish, sir," Sirek replied with a nod of the head.

"Now to bring you up to date," Vaaris said to the group. "Major Luvan of the Ministry of Security is, at the moment, coordinating a squadron-wide investigation. We have already begun security checks on all members of the fleet, with special emphasis on the flight crews and support staff in this squadron. We are checking all security logs and supply manifests. We have initiated security checks on all contractors that have had dealings with the fleet."

"So you agree with Commander Tucker," Herac said, interrupting Vaaris' report. "You have already decided that a Vulcan is responsible for this terrible crime."

"Not at all, Minister. As soon as we received the first distress call from the _Tar'hana_, we alerted the Security Directorate. They were given our mandate to conduct a thorough investigation; we placed no limits on them…no restrictions."

"Perhaps we need look no further than Earth." Herac glared disdainfully at Trip. "It has come to my attention that Terra Prime, a human terrorist organization, has already claimed responsibility for the loss of our ships."

Trip stared at Herac in disbelief before turning to T'Pol. "Have you heard anything about Terra Prime?" he asked in a voice tight with emotion.

Stunned, T'Pol whispered, "No." Then remembering where she was, she quickly added in a more normal tone of voice, "_Enterprise_ has been in direct contact with Starfleet since the beginning of the joint maneuvers. We have received no report about Terra Prime or any other terrorist groups. Perhaps Minister Herac's informant is in error."

"Has anybody else heard anything about this?" Trip's eyes swept the room.

At first his plea met with only blank stares, but finally Vaaris said, "We received a transmission from Terra Prime sixteen minutes ago on what we thought was a secure diplomatic frequency. The message indicated that they will continue to target our people until we permanently sever relations with Earth."

Tensely, Trip scrubbed a hand across his brow. T'Pol could tell that he was struggling, much as she was, to make sense of this latest revelation. The dark specter of Terra Prime seemed to be constantly hovering over them no matter how far they traveled from Earth.

"Well, I don't believe it," Trip finally exclaimed. "Not for a minute. There's no way that bunch could have pulled this off. Their organization couldn't handle something this big. Besides, I've had enough dealings with Admiral Kiran to know that he isn't going to allow a human to get close to one of his ships, let alone every ship in the squadron."

"And yet here you are, Commander," Herac responded.

"Yeah, well I think it's safe to say that I'm the exception."

"Could it be that you seek to place blame on others only to divert attention from your own species?"

Trip shook his head. "That's not my intention. All I'm asking is that you keep an open mind. Don't allow that transmission to blind you to other possibilities."

"Other possibilities?" Herac raised an eyebrow as though an idea had just occurred to him. "Consider this, Commander Tucker. Perhaps you are only trying to divert attention from yourself. For all we know, you could be in league with these terrorists."

Trip was on his feet almost before Herac had finished speaking. As waves of grief and anger rolled off him, T'Pol threw up her mental shields in an attempt to protect herself. She knew that Herac couldn't have accused her mate of anything that would have hurt him more.

"That was irresponsible, Herac," Soval said. "You have no basis for making such an accusation. The commander has proved himself to be a loyal friend to Vulcan on more than one occasion. If it wasn't for him…"

Without taking his eyes off Herac, Trip silenced Soval with a wave of his hand. The rigid set of his shoulders was the only outward sign of the monumental fight he was waging to maintain his composure.

"I resent having my name mentioned in the same breath as those filthy bastards. They took something precious from me, something dearer than my own life. I hope they all rot in hell!"

"Mere words, Commander," Herac continued, seemingly unfazed by Trip's declaration. "Over the past month, you have been given unprecedented access to information regarding our fleet. And you were on board when the explosions occurred. You would seem to have been perfectly placed to aid the terrorists."

Trip gritted his teeth. "I may have been on board," he said tightly, "but I don't make a habit of killing people in cold blood. I'm not a terrorist."

"Could it be that your own cowardice was all that stood between our ships and total destruction? Isn't it possible that your desire to preserve your own life motivated you to alert…"

Deeply upset by Herac's unconscionable behavior, T'Pol was just about to protest when a voice from behind her boomed, "Enough!"

Caught off guard, Herac turned and stared at Admiral Kiran.

"Commander Tucker is not involved," Kiran stated in a manner that brooked no argument. "Since your accusations are without merit, Minister, I suggest we move on."

Recovering quickly, Herac looked around the room. When no one appeared ready to support him, he said, "I was just exploring some of the possibilities the commander spoke of. But perhaps that is a discussion best left for another time."

"Yes." T'Pau looked witheringly at Herac before motioning for Trip to be seated. "We still have things to discuss."

"I believe Commander Tucker has told you all he knows," T'Pol said, rising from her chair. Captain Archer had been right to insist that someone from Starfleet should be present. Trip had suffered enough abuse. She only hoped that Herac hadn't singled him out because of her. "I think it would be best if we returned to _Enterprise_."

"Not quite yet," T'Lan said, sitting back in her chair. "The commander hasn't told us who he thinks is responsible for this heinous crime. He is a very perceptive young man. I'm sure he has given the matter some thought."

"I don't think that's my place, ma'am."

"You maintain that the Earth group, Terra Prime, isn't responsible. You hint that the perpetrators could be Vulcans or people who resemble Vulcans." T'Lan tilted her head to the right. "You obviously have an opinion. I would like to hear it."

"Speculation serves no useful purpose," T'Pol said, interceding on Trip's behalf. "We should wait until more facts are available before formulating any opinions."

"I believe Commander Tucker is capable of speaking for himself," T'Lan said with a slight edge in her voice.

Before T'Pol could reply, Captain V'Lin took a step forward and said, "I, for one, have no interest in hearing Commander Tucker's opinions. He is a human; I seriously doubt that he would have anything useful to say. I am, however, concerned about the unprecedented access this man has been given to our classified technology. I want his assurances that he will not use or disseminate any such information without our authorization."

Trip shook his head. "Sorry. I'm afraid that's one promise I'm not willing to make."

"Is this how you repay our trust?" V'Lin asked. "By stealing from us? Perhaps profiting from the misfortunes of others is the only way you humans are able to advance."

This time Trip didn't rise to the bait. "I can sympathize with your position, Captain, but if Earth is threatened and something I might have inadvertently picked up today can save lives, I'm gonna use it. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I'm not gonna change my mind."

T'Pol could see the resolution on Trip's face and knew that, on this, he would not budge. She almost felt sorry for V'Lin. He obviously had no idea what he was getting himself into. If he continued to press the point, he was about to find out just how stubborn a human could be. She wasn't sure that he would ever completely recover from the experience.

"That is totally unacceptable," V'Lin replied, a faint hint of green coloring his cheeks. "We must protect…"

"While I do not approve of losing control of our technology," Captain Norr said, essentially saving V'Lin from himself, "in this instance I must agree with Commander Tucker. We are all officers charged with the responsibility of protecting our planets. Humans are no different than Vulcans in that respect."

"But humans are impulsive and undisciplined," V'Lin countered. "They cannot be trusted to…"

"We must not lose sight of the larger issue which confronts us," T'Pau said firmly. "Our primary concern must be the search for those responsible for the loss of our ships. We cannot afford to be sidetracked by petty matters which will not help us achieve our goal."

"I'm sure Starfleet Intelligence would be willing to provide you with any current information they have on Terra Prime's activities," Trip said, walking over to stand next to T'Pol. "Just tell us what you need. We'll do anything we can to help."

"That won't be necessary," T'Pau replied coolly. "We appreciate your offer, but this is a Vulcan matter. The Security Directorate is perfectly capable of handling this situation without outside interference."

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but you can't keep this thing a secret. If Terra Prime contacted you, they're sure as hell not gonna just leave it at that. They're probably sending out broadcasts right now to every species that's been in contact with Earth over the past hundred years, warning them that they might be next."

"We will not make an issue of your access to our technology, Commander, but on this we must stand firm. Everything that has been said here has been said in confidence. When the time is right, we will brief Starfleet on today's tragic events. Until then, we must ask you to remain silent."

"I think that course of action is unwise." T'Pol knew she was probably wasting her time, but she didn't think T'Pau and the others fully realized how close they were to permanently alienating the humans. "Starfleet is growing tired of your secrecy. They expect to be treated as allies, not irresponsible children who must be held at arm's length."

"We have agreed to their joint maneuvers," Kiran responded, a scowl wrinkling his brow. "We have given Commander Tucker unprecedented access to one of our battle cruisers. We did not prevent _Columbia_ from investigating the areas where the explosions took place, even though some of us thought that allowing such access was ill-advised. We have made one concession after another. What more do they want from us?"

"Well, you could start by talking to us," Trip said. "Let us help, when we can. That's all we ask."

T'Pau looked rather uncomfortable. "When we return to Vulcan, we will convene the High Council. I cannot make any promises, but we will take your suggestions under advisement. In the meantime, Starfleet must be patient."

"They may feel that they have been patient long enough," T'Pol observed.

"Be that as it may, I must still ask you to abide by our wishes. Commander Tucker, do I have your word?"

Sighing wearily, Trip said, "Captain Archer's going to expect me to make a report when I get back to _Enterprise_."

"Tell him we are investigating. If, at some future time, we are able to determine what happened, we may share that information with him."

"Ma'am, the captain's no fool." Caught in the middle once again, Trip ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "He's gonna know I not telling him the truth. I can't promise…."

"Commander," Soval interjected, "tell Captain Archer that I will speak with him when I return to Vulcan." Rising to his feet, he motioned toward the door. "Now, since there is nothing else, let me walk you to the shuttle."

"We are not finished, Soval," T'Pau said.

"I will return as soon as I have seen our guests on their way."

It was obvious that T'Pau was far from satisfied, but she didn't challenge Soval further.

When they started to leave Subcommander Tanes got to his feet and addressed Trip. "Your assistance today was most welcome, Commander. Perhaps we will have the opportunity to work together again someday."

Trip smiled for the first time since he'd entered the room. "I'll look forward to it. You're one hell of an engineer."

Off to the left, Captain Norr stepped forward and raised his hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Commander." Much to T'Pol's surprise, Captains Ralaan and T'Mira immediately followed suit.

Without prompting, Trip returned the gestures and replied, "Peace and long life."

Trip started for the door, but he'd only taken a few steps before he paused. Turning back toward the group, he snapped to attention. "Admiral, I want to thank you for your courtesy. I only wish I could have done more."

At first T'Pol was concerned that Kiran would ignore her mate, but the admiral finally nodded his head stiffly in response.

Without further comment, Trip did an about face and followed T'Pol and Soval out the door.

Once they were outside in the corridor, Trip took a deep breath and flexed his shoulders, trying to ease his tense muscles.

"You did well," T'Pol murmured.

Trip shook his head. "I shouldn't have lost my temper in there."

"You were provoked."

"Even so, I played right into Herac's hand. Someday maybe I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. I don't think Torok would be too happy with me."

T'Pol thought it was best to change the subject. "I was surprised that you singled out Admiral Kiran. It was an admirable gesture, but he has hardly been a friend to us in the past."

"I know that," Trip replied, a weary grin spreading across his face, "but I think he's finally succumbing to my boyish charm."

When T'Pol looked askance at him, he sighed and grew serious again. "After the explosions, I figured the admiral would just throw me in the brig and leave me to rot, but he didn't. He sent me down to engineering, and the next thing I knew I was working on their engine. That was a huge concession on his part. I just wanted to show my appreciation."

"Do not expect too much," Soval said, stepping into the lift after the two commanders. "Kiran simply responded logically to a catastrophic situation. I'm afraid I wouldn't count on a permanent change in his attitude towards you or T'Pol."

"I'm not expecting miracles." Trip leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "At this point, I'm just willing to take what I can get."

"That is very wise."

As the two men talked, T'Pol took pleasure in listening to the timbre and cadence of her husband's voice. She had been very lucky this time – far luckier than the families of the two crews whose lives had been cut short so violently. If Trip wasn't such a consummate engineer… No. T'Pol gave her head a subtle shake. She didn't want to think about just how close she'd come to becoming a widow. At least he was here with her now.

When the lift stopped, Soval lead the way to the launch bay. The pilot saw them enter and immediately opened the shuttle's hatch, ready to return them to _Enterprise_, but Trip pulled up before they reached the shuttle.

"Just a moment, Ambassador," he said with a quick glance around the massive launch bay to be sure that no one was close enough to overhear their conversation."

"What is it, Commander?"

"I just wanted to thank you for your support back there."

Soval moved forward until he was standing in front of Trip. "Minister Herac was clearly out of line. He has made no secret of the fact that he opposes expanding our relations with Starfleet and United Earth. Your presence here today stands as a symbol of everything he fears the most."

Trip looked skeptical. "I find it hard to believe that the minister is afraid of anything, especially me."

"On the contrary, in some people's minds there is a growing concern that Earth is trying to run roughshod over us, forcing us into alliances that may rob us of the ability to control our own destiny."

"That's just plain nonsense. Earth doesn't want to control anybody. We just understand that there's safety in numbers. After the Xindi attack, we were left to fend for ourselves. We'd just as soon not go through that again, especially now that the Romulans are sniffing around."

"It would be foolhardy for our government to allow Vulcan to become isolated," T'Pol remarked. "We are being attacked from without and from within. Earth and the Coalition may be our only hope to keep our people free from subjugation."

Trip nodded in agreement. "Please do what you can, Ambassador, to make the High Council understand how critical the situation is. I don't think either Starfleet or the people of Earth are gonna put up with too much more of this close-mouthed style of diplomacy. The Coalition is falling apart, and I'm afraid that a lot of the blame for that is going to fall squarely on the Vulcans."

"Tomorrow, I will schedule a meeting with Ambassador Belliveau and representatives of Starfleet, including Captain Archer, to try and ease their minds," Soval said. "I will also speak to Torok. He can be very persuasive. Perhaps he can find a way to influence the members of the High Council."

"We should go," T'Pol murmured to her mate. "Captain Archer will be wondering what is keeping us."

"Right." Trip ran a hand nervously over his brow. "I'm not lookin' forward to this. The captain is never gonna buy the crap T'Pau's dishin' out – not in a million years."

When T'Pol started to speak, he raised a hand, silencing her. "I know, I know. Be patient, let Soval handle the captain, and get in the shuttle." He started to offer his hand to Soval, but thought better of it. "Thanks again, Ambassador. Have a safe trip back to Vulcan."

"Good-bye, Commander."

Trip started for the shuttle, but when T'Pol didn't follow immediately, he turned back with a questioning look on his face. "Go ahead," she said, having understood Soval's signal, asking her to remain for a private word. "I will be with you in a moment."

When Trip waved his hand in acknowledgment and continued on to the shuttle, Soval murmured, "I am concerned for his safety and yours, T'Pol. If Major Luvan is unavailable, contact me and I will have Lieutenant Komas assigned to the commander. Mr. Tucker is not to leave _Enterprise_ without a guard. Is that understood?"

"Yes." T'Pol didn't want to think about the very real possibility that Trip might be in danger, but she couldn't deny that he would be vulnerable whenever he left the ship.

"Talk to Lieutenant Reed. I want you to have a guard at all times, as well. Even on your own ship. He can arrange that. If that is not possible, I will arrange for a member of the Security Ministry to act as a bodyguard for you."

"I don't need protection." She understood that Trip might be in danger – one attempt had already been made on his life – but why did she need a bodyguard? She wasn't a threat to anyone.

Soval grew even more serious. "Think, T'Pol. Your relationship with the commander is well documented, thanks to Terra Prime's attack on Earth and the subsequent trial. Your enemies may try to use you to get to him. He should not be placed in the position of having to choose between doing his duty or saving your life."

No sooner had Soval finished speaking than an unpleasant memory surfaced. She shuddered inwardly when she remembered the phase pistol that had been held to her head. To save her, Trip had agreed, against his better judgment, to fix Terra Prime's targeting system. She wouldn't willingly put him in such an untenable position again.

"I will speak to Lieutenant Reed. He will see that I am protected."

"Good. Now go. Commander Tucker is waiting for you."

With a nod of her head, T'Pol left the ambassador and headed to the shuttle. Upon entering, she saw that Trip had chosen a seat in the back corner. He looked up as she walked over and took a seat close to him. Given their almost overpowering need to be together, she realized that it was necessary to keep an empty seat between them as a constant reminder of their need to be discreet.

"What did Soval want?" Trip whispered.

"He thinks I should have a bodyguard."

"Good for him." Trip folded his arms and looked out the viewport as the shuttle left the launch bay.

Seeing him deep in thought, T'Pol took a moment to study his face. He was still boyishly handsome, but the carefree innocence was gone. He had matured both as an officer and as a man, but the added knowledge and wisdom he'd acquired over the past few years had not come without a price. The optimistic spirit, the very essence of the man she had first learned to care for, was still there, but it was struggling to survive in a world that continued to heap greater and greater responsibilities on his shoulders. Fortunately, now that they were together, she could help shoulder his burden.

Thinking back to the events of the past hour, she felt a rush of pride. Trip had been placed in a most difficult position, and he'd held his own. The Charles Tucker III she had first met in Captain Archer's ready room could never have been placed in a room full of Vulcans and subjected to a series of unwarranted and inflammatory insinuations without creating a scene. It seemed as though she could almost see him grow and change a little each day: learning tolerance; absorbing her culture; developing his skills as a leader; learning to understand and value himself as a person. He was, indeed, a remarkable man.

As they began the approach to _Enterprise_, she glanced out the corner of her eye and noticed the sadness in his face. He was also, she was forced to admit, a deeply troubled man. After a courageous struggle, he was finally winning his battle with depression, but she knew that it wouldn't take much for the darkness to claim him once again. This time, however, she could add her strength to his, waging the fight together. Defeat was not an option.

"Trip," she murmured barely above a whisper, "what is it?"

He only shook his head.

"I know something is troubling you. Please tell me what it is."

"It's not important."

"We promised to be honest with one another. I can't be of help if you won't tell me why you're troubled. Is it the things that were said at the briefing?"

"No." Pressing his lips together, he wrapped his arms around his body a little tighter. "Just do what Soval told ya."

"Trip?"

He shook his head again, keeping his eyes averted.

This was unacceptable. He should know by now that she could be every bit as stubborn as he was. Leaning toward him, she whispered insistently, "Don't shut me out. Tell me what is bothering you."

He rubbed a hand tensely across his mouth before dropping both hands into his lap. "If anything I ever said or did put you in danger…" Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and started again. "If anything happened to you, I don't think I could go on living. You're everything to me."

T'Pol's arms ached to console him, but this was neither the time nor the place. Instead, she whispered, "Don't be concerned about me. I will talk to Lieutenant Reed; he will see that I'm well protected." Summoning up all her emotional control, she sat back in her seat. They would have to be patient. After they reported to Captain Archer, they could finally be alone.

There was a slight bump as the shuttle docked with _Enterprise_. "Well," Trip murmured, slapping his hands on his thighs, "I guess it's show time. I sure hope the captain's in a good mood."

Lieutenant Reed met them at the docking hatch, even though he was technically off duty. "Welcome back." Smiling, he stuck out his hand for Trip to shake. "It's good to see you, Commander."

"You, too, Malcolm," Trip replied with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Captain Archer wants to see both of you." Reed's expression sobered. "He's waiting for you in his ready room."

"And you're here to make sure we don't take a detour?"

Reed shifted uncomfortably. "That's correct."

"Then I guess we'd better not keep him waitin'." Following Trip's lead, the three of them started down the corridor.

"Not long after you left," Reed said to T'Pol, "the captain received a call from Admiral Gardner. When the transmission ended, the captain commed me and announced that his ready room was off limits until you came back on board."

"Great," Trip muttered. "Things just keep gettin' better and better."

"Dare I ask how things went over there?"

"I kinda wish you wouldn't."

Sighing, Reed pointed toward the ready room. "I think you can find your way from here." He clapped Trip on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I think we're gonna need it."

As soon as they entered the ready room, T'Pol knew that something dire had happened. Archer sat behind his desk, staring straight ahead at his monitor. Even when they moved closer, he made no effort to acknowledge their presence.

Glancing nervously at T'Pol, Trip said, "You wanted to see us, sir."

Archer sat motionless for a few more moments and then, taking a deep breath, pressed the comm button. "Archer to the bridge. Set a course for Vulcan. Warp 4. Inform Captain Hernandez of our departure. Archer out."

When he still failed to acknowledge them, Trip finally asked bewilderedly, "Cap'n, don't you want to hear our report?"

Archer slowly turned to face them. "Put it in writing. If I get a chance, I'll read it later. We've got bigger problems to attend to right now. Apparently the Andorians went ahead and signed a non-aggression pact with the Romulans."

"What!" Trip exclaimed. "Are you sure? They've barely had time to meet, let alone negotiate a treaty."

"If I had to guess, I'd say the Romulans just gave the Andorians everything they wanted." Archer rose from his chair and, ducking under the beam, began to pace. "Starfleet Intelligence has a contact in the Andorian Embassy on Earth. He leaked the information a couple of hours ago. Anyway, we'll know more tomorrow; the Andorians scheduled an early morning meeting with representatives of the Coalition."

"Do the Vulcans know?"

Archer shrugged. "I have no idea. And quite honestly, I'm not sure I really give a damn."

"You don't mean that, Cap'n."

"Don't I?" Archer fumed. "We wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for the Vulcans. The High Council is so busy with their logic and their petty little feuds that they're blind to the fact that they just put their world and everyone else in this sector at risk." He stabbed a finger in the air as he made his points. "The only hope we had for peace flew away a month ago with those two Andorian ships – all because the damn Vulcans don't have even a basic conception of what it means to be an ally."

"Cap'n!" When Archer spun around to face him, Trip motioned with his head in T'Pol's direction.

Frustrated and angry, Archer scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to calm down. "I'm sorry if I was out of line, T'Pol, but I've just about had it. And I know that I'm not alone. The time is coming when Earth is going to have to take a good hard look at our alliance with your people. It may be a luxury we can no longer afford."

T'Pol had to take a moment to collect herself. Since she'd made the decision to accompany Archer's ship into the Expanse, she dreaded the thought of being forced to choose between her people and the humans. Now it appeared as though her worst nightmare was coming true. She could end up alienated from her people and an anathema on Earth. All doors would be closed to her. Where could she go? What could…

She blinked suddenly when Trip lightly brushed his hand against her arm. Looking up at him, she was warmed by his reassuring smile. Brief though it was, it told her everything she needed to know: she was not alone. Whatever happened, they would face things together.

Her strength renewed, T'Pol said, "I understand your frustration, Captain. Rest assured that a number of influential people on my world are doing everything they can to promote a new spirit of cooperation and understanding."

"I hope you're right, T'Pol. I just hope it isn't too little too late."

Clasping her hands behind her back, she lifted her chin, determined not to let Archer see how deeply disturbed she was by all of this. "How will this pact affect the Coalition?"

"I wish I knew," Archer replied. "The informant indicated that Andoria will be leaving the Coalition as a condition of the pact. I think the Tellarites will stay. As for the others...I'm not overly optimistic."

"What are our orders?" Trip asked.

"Starfleet wants us to persuade the members of the High Council to see reason. I'm going to meet with Ambassador Belliveau tomorrow afternoon to begin hammering out a plan of action. I doubt that we'll be able to do much good, but we have to try.

"_Columbia'_s been ordered to Andoria to try and mend fences. They'll layover on Vulcan for a couple of days and then head out. To be honest, I think Captain Hernandez stands a better chance of succeeding than we do. The Andorians may still be interested in maintaining diplomatic relations with Earth…especially if the Vulcans are out of the picture."

His anger spent, Archer walked back to his desk and flopped down in his chair. "Go and get some sleep. It looks as though tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

T'Pol was concerned by the strain she saw in the captain's face. He'd invested so much of himself in the Coalition; this had to be a devastating blow.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "Given the chance, I will do everything in my power to convince my people to support the Coalition."

"Thanks." Archer swiveled his chair to look at her. "I really mean that, T'Pol. I know none of this was your fault." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "I owe you an apology for taking my anger out on you. You didn't deserve that. You've been nothing but a loyal friend to me and to Starfleet. I don't think I could run this ship without you."

T'Pol hadn't expected an apology, but she was pleased that the captain had made the gesture. It gave her some assurance that she would be allowed to keep her position on _Enterprise_, at least for the time being.

"With your permission, sir," Trip said, "If there's nothing else, I think we'd like to head to our quarters."

Archer nodded. "Permission granted."

When Trip failed to move, Archer asked, "Is there something else, Commander?"

Trip chewed on his lower lip a moment before replying, "Maybe the informant got things wrong. It's happened before. We could be worrying about nothing."

"I hope you're right." Archer managed a weak smile. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back, Trip."

"It's good to be back," Trip said as he opened the door. His smile couldn't hide his concern for his friend. "You could do with some sleep yourself, sir. Would you like a sedative? I can send for Doctor Phlox."

"No, I'll be fine. I've called a senior staff meeting for 0930. I'll see you both then."

"Good night, sir."

As Trip and T'Pol entered the turbolift, they knew without speaking that their destination was her quarters. Taking up positions on opposite sides of the lift, they focused their attention straight ahead. No words were exchanged.

When they reached E Deck, they quickened their pace, taking care to give the impression to the few crewmen they passed that they were just two officers going about their business as usual. Trip even managed to exchange a few pleasantries with the crewmen. As soon as they reached T'Pol's quarters, however, it was all he could do to get the door open before they fell into each other's arms.

Alone in a dark room lit only by starlight, they desperately clung to one another as though they'd been separated for years instead of a single day. Mortality had cast a dark, angry cloud over their life together, and they felt compelled to do whatever was necessary to chase it away.

"I didn't think I was ever going to see you again," Trip whispered, his voice breaking. "When the _Psthan_ exploded, I…"

Before he could finish his thought, T'Pol grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Trip responded immediately, further fueling her passion with his own. Hands traveled urgently over bodies, mapping the erotic journey the two lovers soon intended to embark on together.

This was what she had been yearning for since they were parted: the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips, the feel of his tongue as it dueled with hers, the intoxicating scent that was his and his alone. There was no logic, no reason, only an all-consuming need to claim him as her own once again.

Rubbing against his growing erection, she murmured breathlessly, "Take me to bed, husband."

Trip stopped nibbling on her neck and stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Then slowly, sensually, he began to run both hands over her hips and up her torso, lingering at the swell of her breasts. Suddenly he grabbed her arms and, pulling her close, kissed her full on the lips. Before T'Pol could catch her breath, he swept her into his arms and strode toward the bed.

Clinging to him, feeling his strong arms about her, T'Pol offered up her thanks, once again, that his life had been spared. Tonight she would make him forget all the grief, all the troubles in the universe – everything but her.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

THE BRIAR PATCH

By Dinah

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: I want to thank all of you for your reviews. I really appreciate it. I also want to extend my sincere thanks to Blacknblue for his sage advice. As usual, he was spot on. I'm sorry about the long delay between chapters. Real life has eaten into my writing time.

CHAPTER 6: TRIP

When the door chimes sounded, Trip stuffed half a dozen pairs of clean socks into his duffle bag and shook his head. He was running on a tight schedule. He really didn't need any interruptions right now. Four blue athletic shirts, six pairs of blue briefs, his desert uniform, and a pair of khaki shorts followed the socks into the duffle bag. But what if the person on the other side of the door only wanted to say a quick good-bye? It would be rude to ignore them. Damn. Finally, against his better judgment, he yelled, "Come in."

As soon as the invitation to enter was made, the door slid open and Lieutenant Reed stepped into Trip's quarters.

"Hey, Malcolm," Trip said, glancing over his right shoulder. "What can I do for ya?"

Instead of replying, Reed folded his arms across his chest and stared doubtfully at the commander.

It didn't take long for Trip to grow tired of the scrutiny. Straightening up, he tossed a stack of padds he was holding onto the bed and turned, hands on hips, toward Malcolm. "Look, I'm kinda busy right now. Why don't you just tell me what you want?"

Reed shifted his weight and then, dropping his arms, walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down. "I thought we were friends."

Caught off guard, Trip stared at Malcolm. "Now why would you say a dumb-ass thing like that? Of course we're friends. What's this all about?"

"It's clear that something's going on. I waited for you to come and fill me in but…" Malcolm shrugged his shoulders sadly.

Trip picked up the padds he'd tossed on the bed and, giving them a cursory glance, pulled one out and deposited the remainder in his duffle bag. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, come on, Trip," Malcolm scoffed. "It's not every day that T'Pol comes to me and asks for protection."

"That was Soval's idea."

"Because of Terra Prime?"

"Yes."

Malcolm nodded his head. "I thought as much. I know they've claimed responsibility for destroying those two Vulcan ships. Do you think they did it?"

"No. But that doesn't mean that those bastards still can't make trouble for us." Sighing, Trip suddenly felt very tired. Just when he thought he was rid of Terra Prime, they began to tighten their grip on him once again. Shoving his duffle bag back against the bulkhead, he plopped down on the bed next to Malcolm. "I think Soval's concerned that we might have another agent from Terra Prime on board. Last time they only stole our DNA. This time…well, I guess he just doesn't want to take any chances."

"I've asked Starfleet to run some additional security checks. We gave everyone in the crew the once over several months ago when you and T'Pol received that anonymous hate mail, but we've taken on a few new people since then. It's best to err on the side of caution."

"Thanks, Malcolm."

Reed dropped his head and appeared to be giving careful consideration to the deck plating. "Is that why the High Council asked to have you and T'Pol temporarily reassigned to our embassy on Vulcan? They don't think that I…" Straightening his head, he took a deep breath. "…that we can protect you here on _Enterprise_?"

"Hell, no! Your people are the best in Starfleet."

"Then why have you two been reassigned? What's going on?"

Trip got to his feet and walked over to his much-loved diving helmet. After brushing away a few specks of dust, he turned back toward Malcolm. "They want T'Pol and me to serve as liaisons with the High Council. Now you know as much as I do."

"And you can't do that from _Enterprise_?"

"Evidently not." Trip leaned back against his wardrobe. "I can't imagine why they asked for me. I'm sure as hell no diplomat."

"That's somewhat of an understatement." When Trip started to protest, Malcolm waved him off. "How did the captain take it?"

Trip winced as he recalled Archer's response. "Not very well, I'm afraid. He could understand the Vulcans asking for T'Pol, but not me." He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck to try and relieve some of the tension. "He practically accused me of shirking my duties. To his way of thinking, I've been spending a whole lot more time with the Vulcans than with my own people lately."

"Well…"

Annoyed, Trip sent a scowl Malcolm's way. "I told him there was no place I'd rather be than _Enterprise_, but I don't think he believed me." Trip shrugged his shoulders. "Then Admiral Gardner got into it. He made it plain that declining the Vulcans' offer wasn't an option. Starfleet's grasping at any straw, no matter how flimsy, to keep our alliance with the Vulcans intact."

"Have you talked to Soval?"

"Briefly."

"Did he give you an explanation?"

"Soval seems to think that some of the members of the High Council trust me…as much as they're willing to trust any human."

"And they don't trust the captain?"

Trip chewed on his lip as he searched for a way to phrase his response. "Not completely. They know he carried Surak's katra," he began slowly. "He gets points for that. But I'm afraid his reputation's preceded him."

"Reputation?" Malcolm cocked his head, a look on incredulity on his face. "You must be joking. Hero of the Xindi War. Linchpin of the Coalition. What more does the man have to do to prove himself?"

"This is the Vulcans we're talking about, Malcolm. A willingness to accept change isn't exactly their strong suit."

"Point taken."

"Soval told me that some of the ministers still think the captain's the same man who fought them tooth and nail to get _Enterprise_ launched – the Jonathan Archer who made no secret of his dislike and distrust of Vulcans. They don't realize how much he's changed over the years."

Trip's eyes drifted toward the viewport. "He has T'Pau and Vaaris on his side. And Soval, of course. Maybe they can bring the others around to their point of view." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Then the captain can have my room in the embassy, and I can get back to my engines."

"Well, if it will ease your mind," Malcolm said with a sympathetic smile on his lips, "until that time comes I've assigned Corporal McKenzie and Private Money to guard T'Pol. They'll be staying in the commander's room at the embassy, so she'll have round-the-clock protection."

Trip's head snapped up. Before he could consider the ramifications of what he was about to say, he blurted out, "And T'Pol agreed to that?"

As soon as he saw the light come on in Reed's eyes, he knew he'd made a big mistake.

"You don't think T'Pol would be willing to share a room with two MACOs?"

"Well…" Trip knew he had to think fast. "She likes her privacy, ya know…to meditate." That sounded good. It might even be true.

"You don't say," Reed smirked. "I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with T'Pol lately. Just where do things stand with the two of you? Still just friends?"

Inwardly cursing himself for his stupidity, Trip stepped into the bathroom and grabbed his shaving kit. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory. He needed to bring it to an end before Malcolm got any more ideas.

"Of course T'Pol and I are friends," Trip said as he headed back to the bed. "As for spending more time with her lately, you know she's been helping me get ready for the joint maneuvers."

Reed looked at Trip innocently. "If you wanted to learn Vulcan, I'm sure Hoshi would have been happy to teach you. And Soval could have coached you on Vulcan culture and traditions."

"T'Pol offered." Trip reached across the bed and grabbed his duffle bag. "It seemed to make sense. She is Vulcan, after all."

He jammed his shaving kit into the duffle bag and, after a taking a quick look around, zipped the bag shut. "I don't have time for this. The captain's pissed enough already without me bein' late." Pointing to a second duffle bag, which was propped against his desk, he said, "Grab that bag and come on." Trip had the door open and was on his way to the launch bay before Reed could respond.

Bag in hand, Malcolm quickly followed Trip out into the corridor and fell into step beside him. Now that they were in a public place, Trip hoped that Reed was done needling him. It didn't take long for him to realize that the lieutenant had only just begun.

"You bruised your knuckles."

Unconsciously, Trip raised his right hand and flexed his fingers. "Yeah. So what?"

"You've spent two days in the gym pummeling the punching bag. That's a first for you. I think it only fair to tell you that some people have put that down to unresolved sexual tension."

Trip gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. "I just spent one very long day with a ship full of Vulcans. No matter how much I meditate, I can only choke down my emotions for so long before something's got to give. I just figured that taking it out on the punching bag was preferable to beating the crap out of one of the crew."

"So you're meditating now?"

Trip's head whipped around. "Yeah. It helps me relax. You wanna make something of it?"

Malcolm held up his free hand in mock surrender. "Perish the thought. As a matter of fact, I think you could use a little meditation right now."

"Stuff it, Lieutenant."

"Look, the next time you need a sparring partner, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Or maybe you'd prefer wrestling." The smirk was back. "I'm sure that T'Pol would be happy to give you a workout. Best two out of three falls?"

"This discussion is over." Trying to keep a lid on his temper, Trip lifted his duffle bag up onto his right shoulder, effectively blocking his view of Malcolm. It was too damn bad that he couldn't block out Reed's annoying chuckles as easily.

When they walked through the door to the launch bay, Trip saw T'Pol and the two female MACOs standing off to the left of Shuttlepod One, but the captain was nowhere in sight. "Stow this for me, will you, Malcolm?" Trip tossed his duffle bag to Reed and then headed over to join the ladies. T'Pol looked slightly out of place in her brown formal robes instead of her uniform, but to him, she never looked lovelier.

"The captain has been delayed," T'Pol said when he came up to her. "He should be here momentarily."

"Is there a problem?"

"Not to my knowledge. When I was preparing to leave the bridge, Ensign Sato put a call through to his ready room; that undoubtedly delayed him. He wants to see us before we leave. I'm sure that he would inform us if…"

Heads turned in unison as the door to the launch bay opened and Archer entered. He was wearing the same tense expression that seemed to have become a permanent part of his face.

"Is everyone ready to go?"

"The gear is stowed away, sir," Malcolm called from the open hatch of Shuttlepod One. "We're prepped and ready."

Archer came to a halt in front of Trip and T'Pol. "Well…it's official. The Andorians are pulling out of the Coalition. I just spoke with Ambassador Belliveau. He received formal notification of their decision thirty minutes ago."

T'Pol gave no outward sign that she was distressed by what the captain had just revealed, but Trip could see beneath the carefully controlled facade. He knew she was concerned about the impact this would have on her people.

"It is regrettable," she said softly, "I had hoped the intelligence reports were wrong."

"There's more," Archer said then pressed his lips together in a thin line. "The Andorians are closing their embassy on Vulcan. Starfleet's agreed to transport the ambassador and the embassy staff back to their home world."

"_Columbia_?" Trip asked.

"Yes, _Columbia_. She leaves tomorrow at 1400."

"The Andorians aren't wasting any time."

"No, they aren't," Archer answered tightly. "Their other embassies will remain open…at least for the time being."

"I don't think there will be any more closures," T'Pol said, "at least for the foreseeable future.

"Why not?"

"The Andorians may be many things, Captain, but they are not fools. I seriously doubt that they trust the Romulans any more than we do. They will not want to run the risk of becoming completely isolated from the other Coalition powers."

"I hope you're right," Archer said before turning to the two MACOs. "Why don't you join Lieutenant Reed in the shuttlepod? The commanders will be with you in a minute."

"Yes, sir," McKenzie said and motioned to her subordinate. "Let's go, Money."

When the three officers were alone, Archer said, "Just so there's no misunderstanding, I want to make it clear that I don't approve of this stunt. Now is not the time for my first officer and chief engineer to be off playing at being diplomats. I need you here on _Enterprise_."

Looking at Archer, Trip could see the anger in the captain's eyes. But that didn't exactly come as a big surprise. Each day, the news on all fronts – from Earth to Vulcan to the other members of the Coalition – was only going from bad to worse. Unfortunately, he could also see a glimmer of something else, something which disturbed Trip far more. If only he could put his finger on it. Hurt feelings, perhaps? Disillusionment? The dying embers of a friendship that had lasted for over fifteen years? No. Trip pushed the last thought quickly from his mind. He couldn't afford to dwell on that now.

"Please believe me, sir," Trip said sincerely, "this is not our idea. We never asked to…"

Archer cut him off. "My ship and my crew come first. I won't allow them to suffer because you've been reassigned. If the political situation worsens and you aren't back on board, I'll have no choice but to replace you. Is that understood?"

Trip was speechless. He knew the captain was upset, but to be replaced… That possibility had never occurred to him. This was only supposed to be a temporary assignment, an assignment he'd neither sought nor desired. There had to be something he could say to keep this from happening, but what?

"Yes, sir," T'Pol answered. "Commander Tucker and I will try to find a way to return to _Enterprise_ as soon as possible. Perhaps Ambassador Soval can be of assistance."

"In case our Vulcan friends aren't inclined to see things our way and return you to your regular duties, I want the names of at least three people who could step in and replace you on short notice. You've got two days to get the names to me."

Having delivered his ultimatum, the captain started to leave, but on an impulse, Trip grabbed Archer's forearm, staying him. Archer looked down at Trip's hand and then made eye contact. His glare made it clear that whatever Trip had to say, it better be good.

"Cap'n, this is the only place I want to be. You know how I feel about _Enterprise_." He glanced at his wife. "I think T'Pol feels the same way I do."

"I noticed you didn't have any trouble transferring to _Columbia_."

"Okay, I made a mistake. But I came back. I don't want this reassignment any more than you do."

Archer searched Trip's face in an apparent attempt to gauge his sincerity. He must have been reasonably satisfied by what he saw there because his body relaxed a little, as he slowly pulled his arm from Trip's grasp. "You may not have asked to be reassigned, Trip, but that doesn't change the fact that you won't be available for duty. If _Enterprise_ has to go into action, I need officers who are here, not wiling away the time down on Vulcan. This isn't easy for me either, but I have to do what's best for this ship. I want those names." He held up two fingers. "You've got two days."

With nothing left to say, Archer turned and walked out of the launch bay.

When Trip didn't move, T'Pol murmured, "It will be all right."

His eyes remained fixed on the launch bay door as it closed behind Archer. "I'm not so sure about that."

"You two have been at odds before and your friendship has survived."

"I hope you're right," Trip replied wistfully. "Come on. Let's go."

Malcolm was waiting outside the shuttlepod for them. "Is everything all right?" He stepped aside to allow T'Pol and Trip to board.

"Everything's fine," Trip said tersely, as Malcolm pulled the hatch closed and slid into the pilot's seat. "Set a course for Mount Seleya."

Reed swiveled in his seat and stared at Trip, who was just settling in next to T'Pol on the bench across from the two MACOs. "I was told that your destination was our embassy."

"I said Mount Seleya, Lieutenant," Trip snapped. He instantly felt T'Pol's disapproval and knew she was right. He'd allowed the talk with Archer to get to him. He'd have to apologize to Malcolm later. "There's been a change in plans," he explained in a more normal tone of voice. "We have an appointment at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. We just want to make a quick stop before we go to the embassy."

"My orders were very specific. I…"

"You're cleared to launch, Shuttlepod One." The voice of the duty officer in the launch bay control room came through loud and clear over the comm.

"If you're worried, Malcolm, T'Pol and I will take full responsibility. You've got clearance, so let's get a move on."

Without further comment, Malcolm turned back to the controls and got underway. Trip could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that he was not happy about the change in plans. Oh, well it couldn't be helped.

As they sped toward their destination, an uneasy silence settled over the group. Leaning back in an effort to get comfortable, Trip's thoughts turned to Archer and their now fragile friendship. They had once been so close. Jon had even called him "brother." Now they barely spoke. He let his mind drift back over the years: late night drinks in the mess hall; evenings spent watching water polo games together; working on _Enterprise_ before she launched; survival training in the outback; carousing at the 602 Club. Those were good times. He didn't want to lose that.

Trip knew that many of the reasons for their estrangement were his fault. T'Pol was in his life now; he wanted to spend his free time with her. There were also the Vulcans and the demands they were making on him. But how could he turn his back on them when they could be critical to the success of the Coalition? If only he could explain everything to the captain, Trip knew that Jon would understand. But there could be no explanations. He'd promised T'Pau to keep silent.

"Commander Tucker."

Trip shook his head slightly as he brought his mind back to the business at hand. "Yeah, Malcolm, what is it?"

"That's Mount Seleya straight ahead." Reed turned his head as though waiting for orders.

"Head for the Sanctuary." Trip walked over and, taking up a position behind Malcolm, looked out the front viewport. Haze had partially obscured the mountain, but he had no trouble locating the sacred retreat. He pointed off to the right. "Over there. See it?"

"Yes."

"You can set down near the foot of the staircase."

Malcolm nodded. "If it isn't too personal, would you mind if I asked why you're stopping at the Sanctuary before going to our embassy?"

"Not at all, Lieutenant," T'Pol said. She looked at Trip, who motioned for her to go ahead.

"When there is a death in the Vulcan fleet, especially when that death occurs in the line of duty, we do not have a memorial service in the same way humans do. Those who wish to honor the memory of the deceased journey to Mount Seleya to meditate. They remember the accomplishments of the deceased and ponder the paths their own lives are taking. Commander Tucker and I want to pay our respects to those who died on the _Klomak_ and _Psthan_."

Reed was quiet for a moment then he said, "I would like to join you, if that would be possible."

"We would welcome your company, Lieutenant," T'Pol replied.

Looking out of the front viewport, Trip was surprised by the number of Vulcan shuttles parked at the foot of Mount Seleya. He made a quick count: eight, nine, ten…no, eleven. On his first visit, the area had been unoccupied except for Shuttlepod One. What a change.

Malcolm set the shuttlepod down in an open area off to the right. Trip opened the hatch and was greeted by a blast of hot, dry air. Stepping aside, he let T'Pol exit first. He started to follow her, but stopped when he heard Malcolm call his name. Turning, he was surprised by the look of guilt on his friend's face.

"What's wrong, Malcolm?"

"Before we left _Enterprise_…the teasing. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm keeping score." Smiling, Trip patted Malcolm on the shoulder. "I wouldn't let my guard down, if I were you."

Returning the smile, Malcolm said a few words to the two MACOs before following Trip out of the shuttlepod.

T'Pol immediately set off through the haze, wending her way through the other shuttles, with Malcolm and Trip close on her heels. When they reached the main staircase, she climbed the bottom four steps and stopped. Turning so that her back was to the Sanctuary, she answered Trip's unspoken question. "Six of the shuttles are from ships of the fleet. Pointing to the shuttles, she reeled off, "_Thorsh-yel_, _Kit'es_, _Tal'Kir_, _Tar'hana_, _Sas-a-shar_, _Ni'Var_." Pausing, she took a second look. "Five shuttles are unmarked. I believe two belong to the Ministry of Security. The other three are probably private vehicles used for transporting family members of the deceased." She looked over at Trip. He could see the sadness in her face. "Traffic will continue to be heavy here for the next two to three months," she continued quietly. "It will take at least that long to accommodate everyone who wants to pay their respects."

Trip wished they were alone so that he could put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He hadn't realized until now just how deeply the loss of the two crews had affected her. Discreetly slipping one hand under her elbow, he murmured, "Let's go on up."

A priestess dressed in a white gown and light saffron yellow robe met them at the top of the stairs and ushered them across the large open landing that led to the Sanctuary. Entering through the arched doorway at the left, they walked down a dimly lit corridor with only the sound of their footsteps against the stone floor to break the silence. Trip was surprised to see several security officers stationed at evenly spaced intervals along the corridor. He supposed they could be here to protect the high priest and any high ranking fleet officers or government officials who might be visiting the site, but still…something didn't seem quite right.

Finally, the priestess stopped in front of an open door which led to a small candle-lit chamber and invited them to enter. Once they were inside, T'Pol exchanged a few words with the priestess while Trip took Malcolm aside and began to explain the basics of meditation. Malcolm looked hesitant at first, but he paid close attention to Trip's instructions, even nodding occasionally to let Trip know he was following him.

Soon after the priestess left, an attendant arrived. Trip immediately recognized her from his previous visit. He searched his mind for a name. T'Lahr. That was it. Head slightly bowed, she walked over to him. In her outstretched arms were two black robes, which she silently offered to him.

"Thank you, T'Lahr," he said softly as he took the robes from her. Her head popped up and two deep brown eyes searched his face as though trying to place him. He glanced over at T'Pol and, when her gaze followed his, he could see the light of recognition in her eyes. With a quick nod, she turned and left the room.

Trip handed one of the robes to Malcolm. "Here, put this on."

As Malcolm slipped the lightweight robe over his uniform, he asked, "Is this customary?"

"Yes. It's a show of respect," Trip said as he pulled on the robe and adjusted the way it sat on his shoulders. "Count your blessings. At least this time we get to keep our uniforms."

Ignoring Malcolm's quizzical look, he pointed to a stone bench along the back wall. If you don't want to get down on the floor, you can sit on that bench back there, but I can't really recommend it."

"Understood."

Trip walked over to T'Pol and sat down next to her on one of the thick white mats that covered a portion of the floor. Following his example, Reed quickly assumed the same cross-legged position. Once they were situated, Malcolm had a few more questions which T'Pol promptly answered, freeing Trip to begin his meditation.

Taking a deep breath, he drew in the delicately spicy scent of the candle wax and his muscles began to relax. He wouldn't have believed it a year ago, but he actually enjoyed the time he spent in meditation. It was comforting, like wrapping himself in the blue and white stripped security blanket he'd had as a small child. Closing his eyes, he turned his thoughts to the ill-fated crews of _Klomak_ and _Psthan_. Even though they'd been strangers, he felt a kinship with them. And he sincerely mourned their passing.

As he slipped deeper into his meditative state, Trip took stock of himself. Slowly, he began to realize that, from that memorable day long ago when he first met Mister Velik, Vulcans had been catalysts for change in his life. When the Vulcans had tried to shut down the NX program, they set in motion the events which would lead Trip to an impromptu meeting with Jonathan Archer, a berth on _Enterprise_, and a life amid the stars. When Administrator V'Las sent the Vulcan fleet against the Andorians, it finally forced Trip to step out of Archer's shadow and make the difficult command decisions which ultimately forestalled an interstellar war. That single event also strengthened his relationship with Soval…which led to an introduction to Torok…which gave him the tools to fight a serious bout of depression…which allowed him to regain control of both his personal life and his career. And then there was T'Pol: his best friend, his lover, his soulmate, his wife. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that an "unemotional" Vulcan would teach him what it truly meant to live and to love.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

THE BRIAR PATCH

By Dinah

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: I want to thank all of you for your reviews. I really appreciate it. I also want to extend my sincere thanks to Blacknblue for his sage advice. As usual, he was spot on. Blame any delays in finishing this chapter on Admiral Kiran; he simply refused to cooperate.

CHAPTER 7: TRIP

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Trip fought to push aside the distraction and continue with his meditation, but then he heard a voice softly calling his name. Quickly realizing that the other person had no intention of giving up, he took a deep breath and reluctantly opened his eyes.

In the flickering candlelight, he saw Malcolm staring at him as though trying to ascertain if Trip was capable of comprehending what he had to say. When Reed seemed satisfied that the answer was yes, he murmured, "We've got company." He motioned towards the arched doorway. Surprised, Trip turned his head. There, standing patiently in the shadows, were Major Luvan and Lieutenant Komas.

Squinting slightly in the direction of the two Vulcans, Trip mumbled, "What is it?"

"We do not wish to disturb you," Luvan said softly. "Go on with your meditation. We will wait."

Trip glanced at Malcolm before turning to T'Pol. The look on her face told him that she was as puzzled by their arrival as he was.

"That won't be necessary," Trip said as he scrambled to his feet. "We're finished." Leaning over, he offered T'Pol his hand to help her rise. "Are you here on business or did you just drop by to say hello?"

"I thought that would be obvious, Commander," Luvan replied. "You are, once again, on Vulcan. The High Council has assigned me to protect you while you are here."

"And Komas?" Trip jerked a thumb in the lieutenant's direction.

"Lieutenant Komas has been assigned to guard Commander T'Pol."

Trip glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Malcolm stiffen.

"That won't be necessary," Reed said icily. "We are providing twenty-four hour security for the commander."

"Starfleet is welcome to provide protection for Commander T'Pol while she is on _Enterprise_ or in residence at your embassy," Luvan countered, but while she is on Vulcan soil, the Ministry of Security is responsible for her safety."

"Commander T'Pol is a member of Starfleet. We will ensure…"

"Okay, time out," Trip said, raising both hands to call a halt to the budding disagreement.

Reed planted his hands on his hips and stuck his chin out defiantly. "The Vulcans have no authority when it comes to Starfleet personnel. When Commander T'Pol wanted protection, she came to me, not the Ministry of Security. It is my responsibility to see that no harm comes to her."

Trip sighed. "Malcolm, this isn't the time or the place to get into a pissing match with the Vulcans."

"But…"

"No buts. Sometimes it just makes sense to compromise. Corporal McKenzie and Private Money will stay with T'Pol while she's at the embassy. When she leaves the embassy, Lieutenant Komas will guard her."

"I think you're making a mistake, Commander."

"Duly noted, but my decision stands."

The awkward silence that followed was finally broken by Luvan. "Commander Tucker, the high priest would like to see you before you leave."

"In that case," Malcolm said stiffly, "I think it would be best if I went back to the shuttlepod. It will give me time to brief the MACOs on this change in their assignment." Without waiting for a response from Trip or T'Pol, Reed started across the chamber, removing his robe as he went. He stopped in front of the two Vulcans just long enough to fix them with a steely glare, then he shoved the robe into Komas' hands and stalked out of the room.

Sighing, Trip scrubbed a hand over his forehead. That hadn't gone as well as he might have hoped. Malcolm was the best at what he did, but he still tended to be overly sensitive when he felt his authority was being usurped. He was going to have to take his friend aside and do a little damage control when he had a few minutes to spare.

While Trip was mulling things over, Komas stepped out of the room and glanced quickly up and down the corridor. A female attendant – one unknown to Trip – came over and took Malcolm's robe from his hand. A few moments later, when Trip saw Komas step to one side and bow his head respectfully, he knew they were about to receive a visitor.

Trip straightened his stance as soon as Torok, sturdy cane in hand, entered the room. The high priest was dressed in his usual black floor-length tunic and unadorned russet robe. His rugged features bore the lines and wrinkles of almost two centuries of life, but Trip knew that he still had the mental acuity of someone half his age.

"It is good to see you, young man, and you, T'Pol. I regret that it took a tragedy to bring us together again, but that seems to be indicative of the times in which we live."

"It's good to see you, too, sir." The smile on Trip's face slowly began to fade. "But I have a feeling this isn't a social call."

"You are perceptive, as always." Torok walked over to the stone bench at the far end of the room and sat down. He planted his cane between his feet and rested both hands on the knob.

"It is obvious that something is amiss," T'Pol observed. "The presence of guards in the corridor is unprecedented. Has a threat been made against you or against the Sanctuary?"

A frown creased Torok's brow. "Not directly." He waved a hand towards the corridor. "The Ministry of Security insisted on all of this. They said it was a logical precaution. I think it is intrusive, but perhaps it is best to err on the side of caution."

"This was not an arbitrary decision on the part of the Ministry," Luvan stated. There was no defensiveness in his voice, but he straightened his shoulders and held his chin a fraction higher than usual. "It was a direct response to the disappearance of a fleet officer."

"Someone's missing?" Trip motioned for T'Pol to take a seat next to Torok. "Who?"

"Captain V'Lin."

"V'Lin? What happened?"

The Vulcan captain didn't impress Trip as the kind of person who'd be a threat to anyone. More than likely, he just got tired of being Kiran's whipping boy and took off.

"I will tell you what little we know." Luvan clasped his hands behind his back and widened his stance. "Yesterday evening, V'Lin came to the Sanctuary to meditate. He was accompanied by three officers from the _Tar'hana_. An attendant escorted each of them to a chamber; the assignments were made strictly at random. This was V'Lin's room."

Trip's eyes immediately began to survey the chamber, even though he knew it was pointless. Luvan and Komas were both well-trained professionals; they would have removed any evidence long ago.

"When the other officers had completed their meditations," Luvan continued, "Lieutenant Calar entered this room to see if V'Lin was ready to return to their ship. He found the room empty. No one saw V'Lin leave; no one could account for his whereabouts."

"Do you think he was abducted?" Trip asked.

"The room showed no signs of violence. I find it hard to believe that V'Lin would allow himself to be taken without a struggle."

"If he was involved in sabotaging our ships," T'Pol suggested, "he might have slipped away, hoping to leave Vulcan before his guilt was discovered."

"That is, of course, a possibility, but the three officers with him informed us that he was discussing pending ship's business on the journey here. He did not behave like a man who was preparing to walk away from his responsibilities."

"I have known V'Lin for over forty years," Torok said. "It was obvious from our first meeting, that he was a follower, a man who seldom thought for himself. He was only given command of the _Tar'hana _because he slavishly hung on Kiran's every word. I don't believe he is clever enough to vanish without a trace."

"You think he's dead." T'Pol's voice was flat and emotionless.

"Yes."

Trip ran a hand through his hair. "Well, if I was going to get rid of a body, I'd make a beeline for the wellhouse."

A spark of animation appeared in Luvan's eyes. "We think alike, Commander. Lieutenant Komas and I found faint traces of blood on the floor near the well. There is no question that the blood belonged to V'Lin. Unfortunately, it does not prove that he was murdered."

"Have you checked out the officers who came with him? One of them could have lured V'Lin to the wellhouse or killed him here and then disposed of the body."

"We interrogated Subcommander Vasic, Lieutenant Calar and Sublieutenant V'Ret. Their stories were essentially the same: they neither saw nor heard anything amiss. While they do not appear to be involved, rest assured that the Ministry will continue to investigate."

"I was going to ask about other visitors, but I'm not sure there's really any point. I know from personal experience that it's easy for an assassin to slip in undetected, especially after dark."

It was obvious from the frown on Torok's face that he was disturbed by Trip's remark. "You are right, of course. The Sanctuary is rather isolated, but that isolation is necessary to allow people to distance themselves from the demands of their everyday lives. Because of the assault on you, Commander, and the disappearance of Captain V'Lin, I have acceded to the Ministry of Security's request to place guards in the corridors – for now – but I will not allow this sacred place to be turned into a fortress. People must be free to come and go."

"That goes without saying," Luvan replied quietly. "The Ministry only wants to do what we can to prevent further acts of violence. Visitors to the Sanctuary should not have to be concerned for their safety."

"As much as I dislike the intrusiveness, it is only logical to provide a safe environment for those who come here. But make no mistake, there must be no interference with the day-to-day activities of the priests and priestesses." Torok gripped the knob on his cane a little tighter. "I look forward to the day when the presence of armed guards is no longer necessary."

Head lowered, T'Pol ran a hand across her lap, carefully smoothing several wrinkles from her gown. "I hesitate to mention this, but the attack on Commander Tucker was only one in a series of assassination attempts. Has this event followed a similar pattern?"

"It appears so." For the first time, Komas entered the conversation. "A minor official in the diplomatic service was killed in a shuttle accident on Earth three days ago. Yesterday, a crewman on the _Tal'Kir _did not report for duty; he has yet to be located. An aide to a high ranking officer in the Ministry of Security, a cargo hauler who delivers provisions to ships in the fleet, and a secretary to the High Council have been reported missing by their respective families. In time, of course, there could be more. We are monitoring the situation closely."

"Before the disappearance of Captain V'Lin, we saw these as isolated events," Luvan added. "Now we believe they are connected."

Trip carefully considered Komas' report. "It sounds like the Romulans are getting rid of the weak links."

"We do not have any solid proof that the Romulans are involved in these disappearances," Torok observed.

Trip folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. "Granted, we didn't catch them red handed, but given the identities of the alleged victims, it sure looks like someone's trying to do away with the folks who helped sabotage Kiran's ships."

"And might talk, if pressed," T'Pol interjected.

"Yeah. You can bet your bottom dollar that it was Vulcans or people who could pass for Vulcans that swapped out those plasma injectors. Since recruiting Vulcans kinda goes against everything Terra Prime stands for, I seriously doubt they were involved. The Romulans, on the other hand, would have no trouble going unnoticed, and they have the most to gain."

"You are assuming that the missing people are dead," T'Pol observed. "That might not be the case. They may, in fact, be Romulan agents who have spent decades in deep cover. It's possible that they've simply slipped away after completing their assignments."

"And they're on their way home loaded with information to pass along to their superiors." That was something Trip hadn't considered, but it made a lot of sense.

"Yes. Given the pact with the Andorians and the weakened state of the Coalition, the Romulans may have decided that now is the time to move forward with their plans. I'm sure they would welcome any up-to-date intelligence on the state of our government or the Coalition."

"Unfortunately, your assessment of the situation agrees with mine." Torok rose slowly from the bench with the help of his cane. "I will contact Vaaris in the morning. We may have only a short time to find answers to these disturbing questions."

"You may want to inform Minister Vaaris that Captain V'Lin made several clandestine transmissions while he was on board _Enterprise_," T'Pol said. "Ensign Sato was finally able to break the code he used, but since she only had bits and pieces of the messages, they made little sense. At the time, we assumed that V'Lin was communicating with Admiral Kiran." Her voice grew quiet. "Perhaps we were in error."

"I'm sure Hoshi would be willing to take another crack at those message fragments. It probably wouldn't hurt to bring Lieutenant Reed in on this, either." Trip hesitated. "But we'd have to tell him that V'Lin is missing. Captain Archer would probably have to be told, too, if we want Hoshi's help."

Luvan started to protest, but Torok raised a hand, silencing him. "I do not believe that, in this instance, it is wise to remain silent. You have my permission to confide in Captain Archer and anyone else you deem absolutely necessary. I know we can rely on your discretion."

"I fear the High Council will not approve of your decision," T'Pol said.

Torok thumped his cane on the stone floor. "Let me deal with them. It is time they accept the reality of our situation. The Romulans have sent a clear message: no place on Vulcan is safe, not even our most sacred retreats. We must act and act now. We would be fools to turn away from the very people who may be able to provide the help we need."

"I hope you can convince them, sir," Trip said sincerely. "Given the way the Andorian situation played out, it's not going to take much for Earth to begin severing ties to Vulcan. In the long run, I think that will be disastrous for both our worlds."

Torok pointed to Trip and T'Pol. "I want the two of you to keep yourselves available. After I contact Vaaris, I think he will want to speak with you.

"Why us?"

"Vaaris told me that you once offered to help him sift through the data Speth had accumulated on the Romulans before he was killed. I believe he will now be ready to avail himself of your services."

"Is that why you had us reassigned to the United Earth embassy?"

"I was not involved in that decision. To my knowledge, neither were Soval or Vaaris." Torok grew thoughtful. "Perhaps T'Pau… It might be best if I made a few inquiries."

"Look, T'Pol and I need to be going. We have people waiting for us."

Trip started to remove his robe, but Torok stopped him. "Just a moment, young man. There is one more task I want you to undertake before you leave."

"Okay," Trip said warily. "I guess a few more minutes couldn't hurt. What have you got in mind?"

"Admiral Kiran is meditating in a room down the corridor. I want you to speak with him."

Trip swallowed hard as he tried to remain calm. "I don't think that's a very good idea. I seriously doubt that he wants to be disturbed…especially by me."

"On the contrary, I think it would be beneficial for both of you. This would be a good time to approach him; his meditation period is almost over." When Trip started to protest again, Torok added, "I ask this as a personal favor to me."

Groaning inwardly, Trip knew when he was beaten. He could fight against a lot of things, but not that. Reluctantly, he nodded his head.

"I will wait for you in the shuttlepod," T'Pol said quietly as she sent a wave of sympathy through their bond.

"Okay." Trip scrubbed a hand over his face. "See what you can do to get Malcolm calmed down. We'll fill him in on V'Lin's disappearance when we reach the embassy."

With a sinking heart, Trip watched T'Pol walk out of the room. He'd give a lot to be going with her.

"Admiral Kiran is waiting, young man." Torok motioned toward the door. "Go."

Resigned to his fate, Trip dipped his head respectfully and left the room. Luvan was waiting for him in the hall. It only took a moment for the major to direct him to the chamber where he could find the admiral.

When Trip reached his destination, he found the door open. Kiran was standing in a far corner of the room with his back to the door. Instead of his customary uniform, the admiral was dressed in a burgundy robe edged with a wide band of ornately embroidered trim. Gathering his courage, Trip called softly, "Admiral, it's Commander Tucker. I'd like to talk to you?"

"Go away, human," Kiran growled.

"But…"

"Leave."

Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, Trip decided that this situation called for a strategic withdrawal. The admiral clearly wasn't interested in a heart-to-heart talk. He took a step back, but before he could get any further, he heard the thump of a sturdy cane striking the stone floor. Sneaking a peek over his right shoulder, Trip saw Torok standing in the corridor, watching his every move. Damn.

Sighing, Trip figured he'd better try again. "Admiral, I don't want to disturb you, but Torok wanted me to speak with you."

"Torok is a meddling old man. He should mind his own business and leave me alone." Suddenly Kiran turned and glared at Trip. "Why are you really here, human?"

Trip tilted his head in confusion. "I just told you. Torok wants me to…"

"Don't be obtuse. Why are you here at the Sanctuary?"

"I came to pay my respects to the crews of _Klomak_ and _Psthan_."

"You do not belong here. Go back to your ship."

"I'm sorry you don't approve, but I had to come. I couldn't just ignore their deaths."

"Your presence here is a mockery. You think by feigning interest in my people I will save your Coalition."

"That's not true."

"Don't insult my intelligence. Why else would you be here? The lives of Vulcan crewmen mean nothing to you."

"I watched them die!" Trip took a deep breath, swallowing his anger. He knew he had to get himself under control or this conversation was going to be over in record time. Lowering his voice, he continued, "I don't know about you, Admiral, but I can't watch two ships explode right before my eyes and not feel a deep sense of loss. I don't have to be on speaking terms with people to care whether they live or die."

Kiran stiffened. "I do not have time for this," he said tightly. Pivoting on his left foot, he turned back to face the wall. "Leave me."

Before Trip could respond, he heard the sound of footsteps on the stone floor. A priestess, with an elderly couple in tow, was coming down the corridor towards him. As they passed on their way to one of the chambers, the three Vulcans gave him a wide berth. It was clear from the looks of disapproval on their faces that they'd heard his outburst. He had to be more careful.

Trip waited until the three Vulcans were out of earshot then he said, "Admiral, I don't think we should be carrying on this conversation in a public place. May I come in?"

"No."

In frustration, Trip threw his hands in the air. This was getting him exactly nowhere. He'd tried; he'd failed; his conscience was clear. Torok would just have to face the fact that Kiran didn't…

"Come with me."

At first, Trip wasn't sure he'd heard right. He started to ask Kiran to repeat himself, but the admiral was already on the move. Under full sail, he brushed past Trip without giving the surprised commander a second glance and headed down the corridor. Trip briefly entertained the idea of staying put, but he knew down deep that that really wasn't an option. He couldn't bring himself to disappoint the high priest. Not only did he owe Torok a great deal, but he also respected the elderly Vulcan as he did few others. And besides, he had to admit that he was just a little curious. What did Kiran have in mind? If he didn't go now, he'd always wonder what he'd missed.

Moving quickly to catch up, he followed the admiral out of the Sanctuary…across the landing…down the main staircase…through the area where the shuttles were parked…and out into the rugged valley which lay at the foot of Mount Seleya.

Even with only a lightweight robe covering his uniform, Trip immediately began to sweat. The heat hugged the ground around him like a heavy blanket. Opening the top button of his black shirt, he looked skyward hoping to find a breeze. For the moment, he was out of luck, but it looked as though the situation was about to change. Through the haze, he could see a bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west. Evidently, there was a storm on the way.

The admiral, silent as one of the great stone figures that towered over the Fire Plains, strode ahead, seemingly oblivious to the reluctant human trailing along in his wake. For the moment, though, Trip was more than happy to let him go.

Glancing at the sky again, Trip wondered what kind of storm they could expect. There would probably be wind, but would there be thunder and lightning? Did it rain here on Vulcan? Surely it must, but judging by the parched ground he saw in all directions, it didn't happen very often. He made a guess that low humidity ruled out tornadoes and with only small scattered seas, he doubted that hurricanes would pose much of a threat. But maybe that was just as well. There was enough death and destruction in these people's lives already.

When the admiral finally slackened his pace, Trip caught up and the two men walked side by side across the uneven ground. In unspoken agreement, they both focused their attention straight ahead on the mountain peaks in the distance.

"Why is it, human, that you are always around when there is trouble?"

Trip winced. This conversation was getting off to a rocky start. "Just unlucky I guess."

"Vulcans do not believe in luck," Kiran scoffed. "We chart our own course in life. Only a species that is weak would refuse to accept responsibility for their actions."

"I don't make a habit of running from responsibility, but sometimes…" Trip shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes things just happen. People get sick. Equipment breaks down. The weather turns bad. We can't control everything, no matter how hard we try. That goes for Vulcans as well as humans."

"Luck played no part in the destruction of my ships."

"No, sir. That was sabotage pure and simple." Trip reached down and grabbed a handful of stones. As he walked along, he took aim at what appeared to be a half-dead plant off in the distance and let fly. The stone fell just short of the mark. "I'd give a lot to get my hands on the bastards who switched those plasma injectors."

"That is no concern of yours. We will see that the guilty are punished."

"Maybe." Trip threw another stone. This one had the distance, but sailed off to the left. "Maybe not. These guys seem to be pretty good at covering their tracks."

"The Ministry of Security will deal with them. It is only a matter of time."

"I don't know." Trip jiggled the remaining stones in his hand one last time and then dropped them on the ground. Reaching inside his robe, he wiped his hand on his pant leg. "The Romulans have had a lotta years to infiltrate your society."

"There is no evidence that the Romulans were behind the attack. Vulcans require proof before they make an accusation. Evidently humans do not."

"Those plasma injectors didn't switch themselves. Somebody gained access to your ships. That's a fact." Trip raised one hand and began ticking his points off on his fingers. "It wasn't the Andorians. There's no way they could have sneaked past your security; you've been expecting them to attack for years. It wasn't the Tellarites; I think you'd have noticed a crewman with a snout. It sure wasn't humans; those delicate Vulcan noses would have sniffed us out like bloodhounds tracking a slab of bacon. It wasn't the Klingons or the Rigelians." Having made his point – all five fingers splayed – he dropped his hand to his side. "I could go on, but what it all boils down to is this: the only people who could have had free access to your starships – bring in the defective injectors, switch them out, remove the good ones – had to be able to blend in. That means it was a Vulcan, which isn't too likely, or a Romulan.

Kiran came to an abrupt halt, ready to take exception to Trip's analysis of the situation. Nostrils flaring, he looked down his nose and glared at Tucker. "Empty words from an empty mind. You do not know what you're talking about, human."

Turning to stand face to face with the admiral, Trip took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I do. The last time I was here at the Sanctuary one of those Romulan bastards tried to kill me. At first glance I thought he was Vulcan, but that didn't make any sense. Eventually I put two and two together. Torok filled me in on the rest."

"Torok had no business confiding in you. He has put all of us in danger."

Trip rolled his tongue slowly around the inside of one cheek. He didn't think what he was about to say was going to go down too well. "Actually…you were the one who helped me figure things out, Admiral. I remembered your comment about the Romulans being your brothers. That, plus the physical resemblance…well, it kinda sealed the deal."

As he looked at the scowl on Kiran's face, the image of a gigantic grey bear ready to tear its prey to shreds suddenly popped into Trip's mind. Fighting the impulse to take a step back, he steeled himself for the explosion he knew was coming. Much to his surprise, the admiral only jammed his hands up his sleeves and, turning on his heel, headed in the opposite direction.

Kiran had only taken a couple of steps before he stopped and called over his shoulder, "Have you told anyone else?"

Realizing the sensitive nature of the conversation, Trip took a quick look around while he covered the few yards that separated him from the admiral. "No…well except for T'Pol; she was with me. Please believe me, both of us understand how damaging this information could be if it got out."

Kiran studied Tucker's face, apparently trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally he grunted and motioned for Trip to follow him. "You know about Captain V'Lin?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he is a victim or a traitor?"

"I don't know enough to make a decision one way or the other."

"I know what Torok thinks…and the Ministry of Security." Head to toe, the admiral's body seemed to tense. "They think V'Lin betrayed us. They think I was duped into trusting a man who helped destroy my ships."

"And they could be wrong. Captain V'Lin might be completely innocent."

"Then where is he? Vulcan officers do not abandon their posts."

"Maybe he met with foul play."

"Murder?" Kiran immediately dismissed that idea. "Random acts of violence may be common occurrences on Earth, but not on Vulcan."

"If V'Lin's dead, I doubt there was anything random about the act. My guess is that it was very carefully planned. He was a threat to someone, so he was eliminated." Trip thought about passing along T'Pol's supposition that V'Lin might be happily ensconced on a Romulan ship headed for home, but he didn't think the admiral would welcome the idea. Trip had barely finished the thought when the next words out of Kiran's mouth proved him right.

"First V'Las and now this… Is there no one I can trust?"

Without warning the admiral quickened his pace. Evidently, this wasn't a subject he wanted to pursue any further. Trip immediately lengthened his stride to keep up, even though he much preferred the idea of heading back to Shuttlepod One and his wife. He still wasn't sure why he was here? He could understand Kiran's distress. After all, it wasn't logical for captains of Vulcan ships to simply vanish without a trace. But surely Torok was far better qualified to deal with whatever was bothering Kiran.

The minutes passed as the two men walked along in silence. Feeling the effects of the oppressive heat, Trip tugged at his collar, trying to let in a little air. It irked him that rivulets of perspiration continued to run slowly down his back while the admiral – a man far older than himself – hadn't even broken a sweat. If Kiran ever discovered the full extent of Tucker's soggy state, it would only give him further proof of Vulcan superiority.

Looking for something – anything – to divert his attention from his physical discomfort, Trip was relieved to see a shuttle lift-off, bank sharply to starboard and climb over the towering mountain directly to his left. While he was idly wondering where it was headed, he saw another shuttle on its final approach. T'Pol was right; this was a busy place. A quick glance toward the main staircase told him that a priestess was waiting for the new arrivals, ready to show them to...

"This is intolerable."

Startled, Trip scrambled mentally to catch up as he focused his attention once again on the admiral. "I'm sorry. What…?"

"I told you once before that I will not be indebted to any man."

"Indebted?" Trip responded incredulously. "To me?"

"Yes."

"I don't see how you figure that. What I did, I did for everyone on those ships, including myself. You don't owe me a thing."

"Nonsense. After you opened my eyes to V'Las' treachery, I gave you access to the _Tar'hana_ to repay any obligation I might have incurred." Kiran pursed his lips sourly. "Now I find myself even more in your debt. That is unacceptable."

"I'll say it once again." Tucker took great pains to clearly enunciate each word. "You don't owe me a thing. I was acting for the good of the many. It's as simple as that."

The admiral waved his hand, brushing away Trip's protests. "You saved my ships. I will not forget that."

"Okay. Fine." A smile played at the corners of Trip's mouth. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up. "If you're looking for a way to say thanks, I wouldn't mind taking another look at that engine of yours."

"One look was more than enough, human."

"If you say so."

Puffing out his chest, Kiran drew himself up to his full height. "I am, however, willing to make another concession. Tomorrow, Sulin and Herac intend to ask the High Council to sever our ties to the Coalition. I was going to vote with them. Instead, I have decided to throw my support to T'Pau and Kuvak. Minister Tel will undoubtedly follow my lead, as will T'Lan. Your Coalition will remain intact…at least for the moment. That should settle my obligation to you once and for all."

Trip let his breath out in a slow, soundless whistle. Another shuttle took off, but this time it barely registered with him. When he finally found his voice, he murmured, "Thank you, sir. I'd say that marks your tab paid in full." He didn't have to be a trained diplomat to realize that the Coalition, and Earth for the matter, had just dodged one very big, very destructive bullet. The secession of both the Andorians and the Vulcans would signal the death knell for the struggling Coalition. That, in turn, would be tantamount to giving the Romulans the green light to move into this sector.

A sudden gust of wind set Trip's robe swirling about his legs. Looking up, he realized that the storm front was moving in faster than he'd anticipated. They should probably get inside. Evidently the admiral felt the same way because he quickened his pace.

Before they parted company, Trip decided to take the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him. "T'Pol and I have been reassigned to our embassy here on Vulcan. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?"

"Certainly not," Kiran answered haughtily. "There are too many humans littering our planet as it is. Go back to your ship. You have no business meddling in Vulcan affairs."

"I'd like nothing better, but I have my orders."

"I will have my aide speak to Admiral Gardner. It would simplify my life considerably if I was finally rid of you."

"I'd appreciate the help." Stifling a grin, Trip wondered if this cranky, opinionated man, who had once spoken out so viciously against a Vulcan-Human union, fully realized that his intervention might actually enable Trip and T'Pol to live together, once again, as husband and wife: one soft, warm bed on _Enterprise_ instead of separate rooms at the embassy. Somehow, he didn't think the admiral would appreciate the irony.

As the two men approached the Sanctuary, a plump, raven-haired young woman in the uniform of the Vulcan fleet stepped out of a large shuttle directly in front of them. Kiran stopped and motioned for her to stay where she was. Brushing her wind-whipped hair out of her eyes, she nodded and stood at parade rest.

Frowning, Kiran scanned the blood-red sky. He seemed to pay special attention to the dark, menacing clouds, which were moving steadily closer. "Humans are ill-equipped to handle the severity of Vulcan weather. You have only a few minutes to seek shelter, no more." Pulling his robe closer to his body to keep the skirt from flapping in the stiff breeze, Kiran motioned to the young woman again, and she immediately stepped through the shuttle's hatch. A moment later, the engine powered up. "I have wasted too much time already in idle conversation. The High Council is waiting for me to make a report on V'Lin. Since it is possible that our security has been breached, we must begin to develop a contingency plan. I will not be caught unawares again."

"That's one plan I hope you'll never have to use."

Without further comment, the admiral headed for the shuttle. Trip raised his left hand and, parting his fingers in the now familiar "V," said, "Live long and prosper, sir."

Kiran didn't return the gesture, but Trip thought he heard the Vulcan mutter, "Peace and long life," as he stepped through the hatch. He was forced to admit, however, that given the howling wind, that might have just been wishful thinking on his part.

The shuttle took off as soon as the admiral was safely on board. Taking Kiran's warning to seek shelter to heart, Trip didn't waste any time watching the shuttle receded into the distance. He set off immediately for Shuttlepod One.

When he cleared the area where the Vulcan shuttles were parked, he pulled up short. Shuttlepod One wasn't there. Looking around in confusion, he was sure this was where they'd parked. T'Pol wouldn't leave without him. He spun around once in place, searching desperately for the shuttlepod, before common sense told him he had to get inside before the storm got any worse.

He'd just started to make his way back to the Sanctuary when he realized he knew where to find his wife. Homing in on the message she was sending through their bond, Trip made a beeline for a small, sleek shuttle near the foot of the main staircase. Forced to lean into the wind, he was relieved to see the hatch pop open when he drew close.

He was barely inside before Private Money slammed the hatch shut and the shuttle took off, with Major Luvan at the controls. Still on his feet, Trip grabbed the back of the pilot's seat to maintain his balance while the shuttle climbed rapidly, slicing through the storm. When they broke free of the roiling clouds, he turned toward his wife. "Where's Shuttlepod One? Why'd it leave without us?"

T'Pol patted the burnished metal bench and Trip sat down beside her. "We received a call from Captain Archer, notifying us that Starfleet has put all ships on alert. He ordered Lieutenant Reed and Corporal McKenzie to return to _Enterprise_ immediately."

"What now? Don't tell me the Romulans have finally made their move."

"Starfleet has received word through unofficial channels that the Tellarites intend to deliver an ultimatum to the Andorians sometime this week. They are apparently ready to go to war."

"Great." Leaning back against the hull, Trip scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "So what's got the Tellarites all stirred up?"

"It seems that a number of their cargo ships have been attacked over the past several weeks. Starfleet doesn't know the specifics, but apparently most, if not all, were lost. Yesterday, the situation escalated when one of their cruisers was attacked by three hostile vessels. The captain was able to send a distress call, but the ship was destroyed before help could arrive. There were no survivors."

"And the Tellarites think the Andorians are the perpetrators?"

"Yes. Before they lost contact, the Tellarite captain identified the enemy ships as Andorian."

"Was it a positive identification?"

"I cannot answer that."

Deep in thought, Trip chewed on his lower lip. "This has a real familiar ring to it, don't you think?"

"You are speaking of the attack on the _Ti'Mur_?"

"Yeah…and the destruction of the _Kumari_. With everything that's been goin' on, the Tellarites should know better than to make a snap judgment. They're playing right into the Romulans' hands."

"Has it occurred to you, Commander," Major Luvan interjected, from his position at the helm, "that the Tellarites might be correct in their assessment of the situation, and you are the one whose conclusions are flawed?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Trip wrinkled his brow in perplexity. "How do you figure?"

"The Andorians have been at odds with the Tellarites for many years. With the non-aggression pact with the Romulans in place, they may finally feel free to move against their enemies."

Trip had to admit that that thought had never occurred to him. Maybe he'd been so fixated on the Romulans that he was seeing pointy-eared boogiemen under every bed. Turning toward T'Pol, he asked, "Do you agree with the major?"

Hesitating, she carefully weighed her response. "Yes. His supposition is logical."

"So you really think the Andorians are capable of being the aggressors?"

"Your contact with that species has been somewhat limited. I think you will discover that most Andorians are not as honorable as Shran."

Trip figured it was probably best to change the subject. "Did you tell Malcolm about V'Lin?"

"Yes," T'Pol replied. "Lieutenant Reed said he would inform Captain Archer of V'Lin's disappearance as soon as he reaches _Enterprise_. If the current situation with the Tellarites does not escalate, they will undoubtedly begin to examine the transmissions more closely…"

"…while we sit in the embassy, twiddling our thumbs."

When he saw T'Pol raise an eyebrow at his unexpected comment, Trip shifted uneasily. That thought had come out of nowhere. He snuck a quick look at Private Money to see if she'd noticed his imprudent remark, but her attention appeared to be focused on the front viewport. That was probably just as well.

The truth was finally beginning to sink in. Once again, they were going to be stranded on Vulcan while important events played out somewhere else. Oh, he felt fairly certain that Kiran would petition Starfleet to have him transferred back to _Enterprise_; the admiral was probably counting the minutes until a certain human was finally out of his hair. Unfortunately, Trip was also reasonably sure that Admiral Gardner would ignore the request. Kiran hadn't exactly endeared himself to the Starfleet brass over the past couple of months.

This transfer made absolutely no sense. Why would someone want them out of the way? Was somebody planning something on _Enterprise_ – an act of sabotage that only Trip or T'Pol might catch? Or maybe Terra Prime had somehow managed to get them reassigned? They would definitely be more vulnerable in the embassy than on a starship. Or maybe he was looking too far from home. It was possible that someone in Starfleet wanted them out of the way. As soon as Archer assigned two other officers to fill their positions on _Enterprise_, Commanders T'Pol and Tucker would become expendable. They could be quietly shunted aside and eventually forgotten. As an added bonus, any public relations nightmares involving their supposed relationship would simply disappear.

Before he could conjure up any more disturbing thoughts, Trip felt T'Pol's hand brush his thigh. She didn't speak, but words were unnecessary. He knew what she was thinking: negative thoughts are counterproductive. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his head back against the hull and tried to get comfortable. T'Pol was probably right. He was looking for trouble where none existed. The request for their reassignment could have come from T'Pau or Kuvak. Ambassador Belliveau could be looking for some help. Or maybe Soval or Ambassador V'Lar honestly believed the two commanders could do some good here on Vulcan.

In the final analysis, though, one inescapable fact remained: Captain Archer needed a full crew complement, including a first officer and a chief engineer. It didn't really matter a lick that Trip didn't want to be replaced or that he felt completely out of his depth in the cutthroat world of interstellar diplomacy. Somebody wanted them on Vulcan, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"I guess we better not waste any time getting those names to the captain," he murmured to T'Pol. "I have a feeling that his patience is gonna be wearin' pretty thin."

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

THE BRIAR PATCH

By Dinah

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: Thank you for your reviews. I really appreciate it. I also want to thank Blacknblue for giving this the once over for me. I'm sorry about the long delay between chapters. I'm afraid I write VERY slowly.

CHAPTER 8: MAJOR LUVAN

If Major Luvan lived for another hundred years, he knew he would never understand Humans. He'd become inured to their inane conversations during meals, but the frantic gesticulations with forks and spoons, the guffaws which spewed bits of food over unsuspecting dinner companions, the greasy hands which gripped unappealing, foreign-sounding foods such as barbecued spareribs, fried chicken and pepperoni pizza – that was too much.

Luvan's eyes quickly scanned the diners in the cafeteria, which occupied a portion of the United Earth Embassy's lower level. The room itself was pleasant enough – the soft blue and green appointments were soothing to the senses – but the cacophonous noise was hardly an aid to digestion. The cafeteria line with its questionable open containers of food, stretched along the far wall. Twenty-six round white metal tables, each surrounded by four white metal chairs with casters on the legs and overly padded seats and backs, were spread evenly across the large, airy room.

Given a choice, he much preferred to dine in the small café, which was located across the central hall from the cafeteria. The café, which was divided into twelve relatively private dining areas, served only food from alien worlds. Occasionally, humans with adventuresome palates ate at the café, but the customers were primarily visiting aliens or alien employees. The food was reputed to be surprisingly good for a Human establishment. The major, however, could not personally attest to that fact. He cared little about food, eating only when he required fuel for his body.

Suddenly he heard the sound of laughter. Glancing to his left, he saw a young Starfleet lieutenant grab a crouton from the top of her salad and toss it at the overly amused male seated across the table from her. Luvan was not surprised by this inappropriate behavior; in point of fact, he rather expected it. Humans were, after all, little more than unruly children. Without discipline and self-control, they would never reach their full potential as a species.

Fortunately, he'd discovered something more substantial in one member of their species. That was just as well. It made his current assignment considerably less onerous.

Luvan sat twelve feet from the table where his charge, Commander Charles Tucker III, or Trip as he persistently asked to be addressed, was engaged in a spirited conversation with two men, who were executives with a powerful interstellar cargo company. As he watched them, Luvan wondered idly if Starfleet realized that their foremost warp field engineer was being courted by at least four private firms. He thought not. Humans often seemed to be oblivious when it came to matters of importance. Then again, perhaps Starfleet knew and simply didn't care.

Immediately after their reassignment, Commanders Tucker and T'Pol had been invited to attend meetings of the High Council. Their subsequent briefings were surprisingly well-received by both Starfleet and embassy personnel. Unfortunately, after eighteen days, the Vulcans had cut off all access to the High Council. No explanations were given. Since the restrictions imposed by the High Council made it virtually impossible for the two commanders to carry out their duties as liaisons, they had expected to be transferred back to _Enterprise_. When that didn't happen, they'd sent a formal request for transfer to Starfleet, but nothing came of it. Now four weeks and two days later, they were still waiting, languishing in obscurity, and no one from Starfleet seemed to be the least bit interested.

Hands folded on the table in front of him, back rigidly straight, Luvan studied the two men dining with the commander, trying to gauge the accuracy of the information he'd read in their dossiers. Martin Granville, seated to the left of Tucker, was president and chief executive officer of the United Earth Cargo Corporation. At five feet nine inches tall and 167 pounds, the 39-year-old Granville was not physically imposing. He had a ready smile and an amiable personality, but his body language made it clear that he was also a man who was comfortable wielding power. His Chief Operating Officer, Emil Proehl, on the other hand, appeared nervous and unsure of himself, constantly blotting perspiration from his brow with a soggy, balled-up handkerchief. With his round, overweight body and pudgy, well-manicured hands, he appeared harmless, but anyone who'd had business dealings with Proehl knew there was nothing soft about him. Like Granville, he had a reputation for accepting nothing but the best and doing whatever was necessary to get it.

There had been other lunches and dinners, both here in the cafeteria and in the formal dining room on the top floor of the embassy, as well as a steady stream of messages from Earth. With the prospect of war looming, defense contractors, freight haulers and passenger carriers were scrambling to obtain the services of someone with Commander Tucker's expertise. Tomorrow, the commander was scheduled to meet with Andra Patkar of Interstellar Transport Services, a company eager to develop a passenger ship capable of cruising at warp 3. Then there were the daily calls from Eduardo Galland, CEO of Howard-Barlow, Inc., the primary supplier for many of the components used in Starfleet's warp engines. Having overheard several of those calls, Luvan knew that Gerard could be an extremely persuasive and determined man. There had even been some feelers from a representative of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology asking Tucker to join the faculty as head of their warp theory department.

When this assignment first began, Luvan knew with some degree of certainty that these people were wasting their time; now he wasn't quite so sure. Commander Tucker was becoming increasingly restless and dissatisfied. As things stood now, if the right offer came along, the commander might be persuaded to turn in his uniform.

The major saw Tucker's head turn toward the doorway. There was no one there, but Luvan knew that T'Pol would be arriving momentarily. Over the past weeks, he'd watched the interaction between the two commanders with growing interest. They were obviously involved with one another, even though they made every effort to be discreet. At first he found their relationship distasteful, but he'd since revised his opinion. Commander Tucker was certainly not the equal of a Vulcan male, but he was surprisingly capable for a Human.

As expected, T'Pol appeared in the doorway and motioned to the commander. With a nod of recognition, Tucker stood, shook hands with the two men from the UECC and said his good-byes. Moving quickly to the doorway, he exchanged a few whispered words with T'Pol and then they left together. Luvan rose immediately and followed them.

T'Pol was no longer accompanied by her female bodyguard. Without warning, Private Money had been recalled to _Enterprise_ eight days ago. Commander Tucker immediately filed a protest with Starfleet, but the situation remained unchanged. No explanation for the recall was given. In light of the unexpected move, Luvan thought that he, too, would be asked to leave the embassy, but so far there had been no demand for a change in his status.

The three officers went directly to the room the major shared with Commander Tucker. Once inside, T'Pol moved to the monitor mounted on the walnut desk in the far corner of the room and tapped in a code. "I thought you should see this," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Tucker. "It is a portion of a speech delivered by Julian Esterle at a political rally held yesterday in Sydney, Australia."

"Esterle?" Wrinkling his brow, Trip pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Oh yeah, I remember now. My Mom mentioned him the last time we talked. He's the fella who thinks he can get Earth back on the right track by preaching isolationism."

"Yes, and apparently people are beginning to listen. In the past few weeks, rallies for his Peace Forever Movement have drawn huge crowds worldwide."

"You've been keepin' tabs on him?"

"Yes," Luvan replied, from where his stood just inside the door. "The Ministry of Security monitors all political activities which might have an impact on Vulcan citizens. I alerted Commander T'Pol to the growing importance of this movement sixteen days ago." Luvan took note of the scowl on Tucker's face. Perhaps he'd been remiss in not informing both commanders.

"With the coming parliamentary elections on Earth," T'Pol added, "Mr. Esterle has evidently decided that a stronger message is needed." There was a palpable tightness in her voice. "I think you should be aware of what he is advocating. If he is successful in accomplishing his goals, it will bring about sweeping changes, some of which will affect us directly."

Tucker sat down on the bed closest to the monitor. "Okay, let's see what he's got to say."

T'Pol accessed the appropriate file from the embassy's database then sat down next to him. The image of a large open-air stadium filled the screen. As the crowd cheered wildly, the camera panned a full 360 degrees before zooming in on an unadorned stage at the center of the field. Under a cloudless blue sky, a lone man stood near the front of the stage acknowledging the cheers of his audience.

"This is the guy everyone's so het up about," Tucker observed incredulously. "He looks like a beach bum." Looking from T'Pol to Luvan, he evidently saw the questioning looks on their faces. "Well, look at him." Tucker pointed toward the screen. "He can't be a day over twenty-five. Bleach blond hair down to his shoulders. California tan. He's even wearin' sandals with his suit."

"You may see him as a figure of fun, but I do not believe he is a man to be taken lightly," T'Pol responded.

Tucker held up his hands in mock surrender before turning his attention to the man on the screen.

When the crowd quieted, Esterle spread his arms wide. "Peace Forever," he cried jubilantly, and the crowd immediately roared its approval. He allowed the applause to continue for a minute and a half before motioning for silence. When he once again had their full attention, Esterle cupped his hands in front of him. "We hold the future in our hands. This is the time for every man and woman to step forward and raise their voices so that people around this blessed planet can hear our message. We will settle for nothing less than a world free from fear, intimidation, violence, and war – a world where Earth controls her own destiny.

"The coming parliamentary elections stand as the most crucial in the history of our planet. We are at the threshold of a golden age. Prosperity, enlightenment and cultural advancement await those who have the courage to stand up and demand an end to entangling alliances…an end to threats of war…an end to politicians who place the well-being of other species over the welfare of their own people."

With a satisfied look on his face, Esterle waited calmly for the cheers to subside once again before he continued.

"First, it is imperative that we acknowledge that peace begins at home. There is no room in a peaceful society for terrorist organizations such as Terra Prime. They are a cancer which slowly destroys all that is good in humanity. We, as right-minded people, must make it clear that these terrorists stand as an example of everything we abhor and, therefore, must be rooted out. We must tell our government officials in no uncertain terms that we expect them to bring Terra Prime's reign of terror to an end. You and I…" Arms outstretched, he turned around slowly in place. "All of us working together can bring about change peacefully."

Luvan saw a look pass between the two commanders. He was well aware of their ongoing struggle with Terra Prime.

"For the past five years, we have read accounts of the exploits of Captain Jonathan Archer and the crew of the starship _Enterprise_. At first I, too, was caught up in the excitement of exploring the unknown, but unfortunately we are no longer wide-eyed innocents. It is time for our leaders to realize that the exploration of space is a luxury we can no longer afford." Commander Tucker shifted uneasily when this statement produced a huge cheer from the crowd. "Our ships are needed here at home to protect our planet and support our colonies. We cannot run the risk that _Enterprise_, _Columbia_, or some other Starfleet vessel will provoke an alien power and bring down their wrath upon our heads. Earth cannot withstand another attack like that visited upon us by the Xindi.

"Now I hear what some of you are saying. Yes, aliens have helped us in many ways over the years – I will not dispute that – but now it's time for us to help ourselves. It is time for all aliens to return to their own worlds. Earth is not their home.

"We must bring an end to this ill-advised Coalition, which threatens the peace and security of our world. We cannot allow alien species to involve us in their feuds, some of which have been ongoing for centuries. We must break off all contact with the Vulcans, Andorians, and every other species that can deny us the peace we so richly deserve. We must close their embassies, take their books from the shelves in our libraries, and remove all alien influences from our schools and universities. It's time for us to stand on our own feet, unaided. Only when the last alien has peacefully left this planet will we truly be free. Earth belongs to the human race!"

The applause was thunderous. With his hands clasped in front of him and a smug smile spread across his face, Esterle stood motionless on the stage, basking in the approbation of the crowd. When the cheers began to wane, he threw his arms over his head and yelled, "We deserve peace! We will accept nothing less than peace forever!" The audience rose as one, roaring their approval. Shouts of "peace forever" echoed again and again throughout the stadium.

T'Pol rose and turned off the monitor. "The rest of his speech deals with domestic issues." She kept her back to Tucker. The tension in her voice made it clear that she was struggling to maintain her composure. "If you are interested, you may continue to watch…but I have seen enough."

"Are all the rallies like this one?" Tucker asked quietly. He sat with his shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

"I cannot say. Watching one rally was quite enough."

"Esterle can call it peace, but what he's preachin' is intolerance. He's nothing but a damn bigot!"

"If this man has his way, my people will no longer be welcome on Earth. I…will no longer be welcome."

Commander Tucker jumped to his feet and gently took hold of her shoulders. "Don't say that. Just because a few thousand idiots are willing to listen to this man's nonsense, doesn't mean that most Humans think the same way."

"That stadium holds considerably more than a few thousand people. And don't forget the other rallies in other stadiums."

"Those people are just runnin' scared. They're all still living in the shadow of the Xindi weapon. You mustn't let it upset you," he murmured. When he nuzzled her hair, she slowly leaned back against his chest. "Besides, I don't give a damn what anybody thinks. Earth isn't my world anymore; you are."

"I will not be responsible for keeping you from your family."

"If I remember right, Mom called Esterle a jackass. I wouldn't let it worry you."

"But if people knew that we…" Suddenly T'Pol pulled away from Tucker and spun around. She'd obviously just remembered that they were not alone.

When Tucker turned his head and caught sight of Luvan, he stiffened. "We…uh…" He took a deep breath and collected himself. "What you just saw here never happened. Understand?"

"Commander Tucker, I have spent over a month with you. I would be a poor excuse for a security officer if I was unaware that your relationship with Commander T'Pol has progressed beyond that of mere colleagues. You have my word that I will continue to respect your privacy."

"Thanks. We appreciate your discretion." Relaxing noticeably, Tucker gestured toward the monitor. "Obviously, this isn't the best time for a Vulcan-Human relationship to become public knowledge."

"Indeed." Luvan turned toward the door. "I have been ordered to report to Minister Vaaris. I will return to the embassy in two hours. It is imperative for you to remain in this room until then. Ambassador Soval would be most displeased if anything happened to you in my absence."

"Take your time," Trip said, as he unobtrusively took T'Pol's hand in his. "We'll be right here when you get back."

- - - - - - - - -

Minister Vaaris was late.

Major Luvan stood, hands on hips, and scanned the sky in all directions. The only thing visible was the brilliant red-orange Vulcan sun, which blazed overhead. Even the clouds had abandoned this desolate wasteland.

He disliked the secrecy that had become so much a part of his job of late. Someday, when the current crisis had passed, his people would be able to communicate with one another, once again, without resorting to coded messages and clandestine meetings, but for now, they were necessary to ensure both his own survival and the survival of his species.

While he walked back to the shuttle, he carefully considered his options. Attempting to communicate with Vaaris was out of the question; it would be a breach of security. Leaving was also not an option. There was no point in attempting to find Vaaris because he had no idea where to look. He would just have to wait. If the minister still had not arrived when it was time for Luvan to return to the United Earth Embassy, he would alert the Ministry of Security. They were better equipped to undertake a search than he was.

Leaning back against the side of the shuttle, he tried to relax his tense muscles, while still remaining vigilant. Off in the distance, he could just make out the south entry to the Fire Plains. That area, with its mammoth stone statues and fiery lava coursing from the heart of Vulcan itself, had always held a special fascination for him. It was also the only place where he'd ever felt close to his father.

From the time he was eight years old, Luvan had visited the lava beds once each year with his father for a week of study and contemplation. His father's work with the Ministry of Security often took him away from home for long stretches at a time, and even when he was home, he had little interest in interacting with a child who had not yet learned to fully control his emotions. His mother, understanding the importance of a paternal role model in a child's life, had suggested the visits and his father had reluctantly complied. During these trips, he and his father had had many stimulating discussions on a myriad of topics, including history, geography, astronomy, and geology. Luvan never failed to be impressed by his father's breadth of knowledge and his intense interest in the universe around him. Unfortunately, these conversations came to an abrupt halt as soon as they returned home, and once again a wall of silence descended between father and son.

Then one day his father had gone away and never returned, the victim of a pernicious disease on an alien world. His death had barely sent a ripple through his family. Even his mother had almost seemed unmoved by the passing of her mate.

It was ironic that Luvan had chosen to travel the same path as his father. His two children, now both grown, had also had a father who was frequently absent on assignments for the Ministry of Security, only their upbringing had never included trips to the Fire Plains. For a fleeting moment, Luvan felt a twinge of regret for what he had missed, but he quickly quashed those thoughts; they would serve no useful purpose. He had done his duty. He had married, sired children, and provided for his family's welfare. He had been a dutiful husband, but he and his wife were strangers to the emotions that he had seen, in unguarded moments, in the eyes of Commanders Tucker and T'Pol. But then T'Pol was playing a fool's game; no good could come from losing control of one's emotions…especially with a Human.

A dot on the horizon caught his attention and he straightened, instantly on the alert. As he watched, the dot grew steadily until he could identify three Vulcan shuttles flying in a V formation. Luvan's head swiveled as they streaked by. Then he saw the lead shuttle bank to the right and begin its descent while the other two ships began circling overhead.

The shuttle sent up a swirl of grit as it touched down. Twenty-five seconds later the hatch opened and Lieutenant Komas stepped out. After taking a careful look around, he called softly over his shoulder and Minister Vaaris emerged. When the minister motioned toward a spot midway between the two shuttles, Luvan started forward.

As soon as the two men were facing one another, the diminutive minister wasted no time getting down to business. "Over the past week, there has been a marked increase in subspace traffic between Earth and their embassy here on Vulcan. So far, we have been unable to break their code, but all indications point to something major occurring in the next couple of days. I want you to be on your guard, Major."

"Yes, sir. Do you believe Commander Tucker is in any imminent danger?"

"I don't know, but we cannot afford to take any chances. Torok is adamant that Commander Tucker must be protected at all costs."

"And what about Commander T'Pol?" Luvan unobtrusively took a couple of steps back so that the minister, a man well over six inches shorter than the major, didn't have to crane his neck to look up at him. "The Human who was guarding her returned to _Enterprise_ eight days ago."

"I'm afraid the responsibility for T'Pol's safety must also fall on your shoulders. Soval has tried on several occasions to get Lieutenant Komas admitted to the embassy to protect T'Pol. Each time, his request has been denied."

Luvan was not surprised. From what he'd observed, Humans seemed to think that if they ignored a problem, it would simply go away. "There is little more that I can do. As per your orders, I have provided the Humans with regular reports. They are well aware that, over the past month, the commanders have been followed five times when they left the embassy grounds. Two weeks ago, when I discovered that the commanders' rooms had been searched, I notified embassy security personnel immediately. I also provided copies of the threatening messages they have been receiving."

"Be that as it may, Ambassador Belliveau still insists that the commanders are not in any real danger; therefore, he sees no need for bodyguards. Soval was able to persuade him to allow you to remain, but I think it is only a matter of time until you, too, will be asked to leave."

That tallied with Luvan's assessment of the situation. "I am impressed that Soval was able to accomplish even that much.

"Explain."

"It has come to my attention that the Humans are quietly expelling Vulcan workers from their embassy."

A look of concern spread over Vaaris' face. "I have heard nothing about this. Are you sure?"

"Yes. During my weeks in the embassy, I became acquainted with Tolec, a scholar who works in their research library. This morning, he was told that his services would no longer be required. Financial cutbacks were cited as the reason for his termination, but when he was preparing to leave, he found documentation that a Human worker would be arriving next week to take over his job. He knows of at least three other Vulcan workers who have lost their positions in the past two days."

"Perhaps their work was unsatisfactory."

"I do not think that is the case. While Commander Tucker showered and shaved, I was able to gain entry to their database. A quick check of their employment records revealed that the files of all Vulcan workers have been flagged. There was no indication that a deadline had been set for the terminations, but it would not surprise me if Commander T'Pol and I are the only Vulcans left in the United Earth Embassy by the end of the week."

Obviously deep in thought, Vaaris tucked his hands up the sleeves of his robe and took several steps away from Luvan. The cry of a sehlat could be heard off in the distance, but the minister never stirred; his attention remained focused on the patch of ground directly in front of his feet. Finally he asked, "Did you see anything that would lead you to think that the Humans are preparing to break off relations with our government?"

"No, sir."

Vaaris looked back over his shoulder and studied Luvan. "Spoken with confidence, Major."

"Such a move would be highly illogical, even for Humans. It would doom their Coalition. At this point, I have seen nothing that would indicate they are ready to go that far."

"I will notify Soval of your findings as soon as we are done here. He and V'Lar are scheduled to meet with Belliveau later today. Soval is accustomed to dealing with Humans. Perhaps he can gain some insight into what they are planning."

"Soval may want to review this information before his meeting with V'Lar and the ambassador." Reaching into his pocket, Luvan pulled out a data disk and held it out to Vaaris. "This is the latest intelligence on Terra Prime from our embassy on Earth."

After motioning for Lieutenant Komas to join them, Vaaris took the disk from the major. "Have you looked at this?"

"Yes. There are several items of interest."

"Such as?"

"John Frederick Paxton is dead."

Surprised, Vaaris raised one eyebrow. "Has this been verified?"

"Our agents were not able to view the body, but a man who assisted at the autopsy was willing to talk…for a price."

"How did Paxton die?"

"The official cause of death is listed as suicide."

"Official cause? Is there some question as to the accuracy of the pathologist's report?"

"The fact that Paxton had been receiving Rigelian gene therapy for Taggart's Syndrome is well documented. The autopsy showed that at some point this treatment was stopped. He was not able to survive for long without it."

"You're implying that he was murdered?" Komas observed coolly.

"There is nothing to suggest that Paxton willingly decided to stop the treatment."

"I cannot believe that the leaders of United Earth would condone murder," Vaaris said in a peremptory tone of voice, "even if the victim was a convicted criminal."

"It may have been done without their knowledge." Luvan thought that many of the Human leaders probably were, in fact, corrupt, but this was not the time to challenge the minister's opinion.

"Have you told the commanders? They will undoubtedly be interested to learn of Paxton's fate."

"Not yet, but I am sure the news will reach the embassy soon. I would rather that they did not learn of it from me. I don't want to have to explain where I got my information."

"Very wise." Vaaris held the disk up and wiggled it back and forth. "Is there anything else of note on this? Does it contain the information we've been seeking?"

Luvan shook his head. "Our agents still have not discovered how Terra Prime was able to transmit their message on one of our secure diplomatic frequencies."

With lips pressed firmly together, Vaaris thrust the disk into a pocket stitched into the lining of his light brown robes. "That is unacceptable. Only someone in a position of authority in our government had access to that information. We must find that person before he can do any further damage."

Luvan watched with interest as Lieutenant Komas lifted his chin and clasped his hands firmly behind his back. Judging by his body language, the young man knew that what he was about to say might not necessarily be viewed in a positive light.

"Given the untenable restrictions placed on our intelligence agents," Komas stated, "I doubt that you will ever obtain the information you desire. The Ministry of Security knows the identities and the whereabouts of a number of influential members of Terra Prime. These people should be seized at once and interrogated. Humans are weak. They would soon tell us everything we need to know."

"And then what?" Luvan asked.

A frown wrinkled Komas' brow. "I do not understand."

Luvan had to admit that Komas' suggestion had some merit, but, given the current political climate, it was a risk that might prove too costly in the long run. It was clear the lieutenant had not taken all possible ramifications into consideration before he spoke. That was unacceptable, especially for an officer in a potentially sensitive area such as security.

"What happens to these Humans after we are done with them? Do we simply kill them and dispose of their bodies or do we allow them to live and run the risk that they will tell everyone that they were captured and tortured by Vulcans?"

Komas stiffened. "We would not have to kill them, although the loss of a few Humans would be of little consequence. We have a number of operatives who have the necessary skills to perform mind wipes."

"The High Council will never give its approval for that."

"The Ministry of Security is empowered to do whatever is necessary to protect Vulcan. We do not need the approval of the High Council."

Luvan knew that a certain amount of ruthlessness was necessary for anyone working for the Ministry of Security. He had killed in the past and never given it a second thought; he was only doing his duty. But ruthlessness must always be tempered by logic. Komas had apparently lost sight of that fact. Perhaps his advancement at the Ministry had been too rapid. For the next few months, it might be best if he spent less time in the field and more time learning to control his impulsive nature.

"Mind wipes should not be taken lightly," Luvan stated in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "The procedure is not only controversial, even when performed by a priest, but it also might prove to be dangerous. We do not know what effect the procedure will have on Humans."

"Enough." Vaaris held up his hand, halting any further discussion. "Our relations with Earth are already strained. We cannot run the risk of being caught interrogating Humans against their will. We must find another way to obtain the information we need."

Luvan thought a moment, carefully weighing what he was about to suggest. "Over the past weeks, I have watched a number of broadcasts from Earth. It is becoming increasingly apparent that public sentiment is turning against Terra Prime. Without Paxton, they no longer have a unifying force. Our agents report that there appears to be a growing power struggle within the organization. This will foment discontent and disloyalty. If the government of United Earth could be persuaded to offer disgruntled members immunity from prosecution in exchange for information, we, as the injured party, would have the right to be notified of any revelations related to Terra Prime's claim that they were responsible for the destruction of our ships."

"Yes, I see," Vaaris said, pausing to consider Luvan's words. "Even though we have right on our side, such a concession from Earth's government might not be easy to obtain. We ask for cooperation from them when we, in the past, have demonstrated an unwillingness to offer them the same consideration."

"Obviously, we may have to offer something in exchange. Perhaps giving Commanders Tucker and T'Pol limited access to the meetings of the High Council once again would be a show of good faith on our part."

"I think it is time for Soval to return to Earth." Turning on his heel, Vaaris started for his shuttle, taking it for granted that the two security officers would follow. "He has the connections inside Starfleet and the United Earth government to ensure that this will work to our benefit. V'Lar is more than capable of handling any negotiations with the Humans here on Vulcan. I must speak with T'Pau."

Given the sour expression on Komas' face, there was little doubt that he did not agree with Vaaris' decision, but he made no further comment.

When Vaaris reached the open hatch, he stopped. "I want to meet with Commanders Tucker and T'Pol this evening, as scheduled. We still have a great deal of intelligence data to sift through. Minister Speth was a very thorough man. I think it would be wise, however, to change the meeting site. I believe my home is being watched. It is only reasonable to assume that our previous meetings sites are being watched as well."

"Commander T'Pol's home is unoccupied," Komas offered. "We might catch the enemy off guard."

"It might do." Deep in thought, Vaaris entered the shuttle and took the seat closest to the open hatch. "T'Pol would probably have no objections, but we would be isolated there…"

"…which could work to our advantage," Komas added. "We will be able to catch our enemies off guard."

"It could also leave us vulnerable to attack. At this critical juncture, we cannot afford to end up like Speth. Corpses will not save Vulcan."

When Komas started to protest, Vaaris waved him off and immediately turned his attention to Luvan, who, like Komas, stood directly outside the open hatch. "All right. With T'Pol's consent, we will use her family home tonight, but I want extra security. You know the people who can be trusted."

"Yes, sir," Luvan replied. "I also think it would be wise to vary our rendezvous time. Over the past several weeks, we have become too predictable."

"Agreed. We will meet 45 minutes later than scheduled." Without further comment, Vaaris motioned to Lieutenant Komas that it was time to get underway.

Luvan quickly stepped away from the shuttle as Komas closed the hatch. He was already giving careful consideration to the security assignments for tonight. He'd once had complete confidence in his ability to determine the trustworthiness of others; that was no longer the case. Only last week, mandatory blood tests had revealed that a member of the Ministry of Security – a man Luvan had known and trusted for many years – was, in fact, a Romulan agent. If the man hadn't become careless about masking the distinctive Romulan antibody in his blood, he might easily have been one of the people the major would have chosen to protect Minister Vaaris and the others. From here on out, Luvan knew he could not afford to make a mistake. Even a small error in judgment could spell disaster. People – men and women who potentially held the future of this entire sector in their hands – were depending on him to keep them safe.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Hand me that hyperspanner, will ya?"

Commander Tucker lay sprawled on his back on the floor of the embassy's mechanical room. One of the two auxiliary generators had malfunctioned and he'd volunteered to repair it. After twenty-two minutes of banging and cursing, his efforts so far had met with little success.

"We must leave within the next fifteen minutes or we will be late," Luvan said sternly as he scanned Tucker's disheveled appearance. "You have very little time to make yourself presentable."

"I know, I know. I'm almost finished." Tucker stuck out his right hand, palm up and wiggled his fingers impatiently. "Just give me the hyperspanner, and I'll be able to button this baby up in a couple of minutes."

Luvan sighed – something he'd never done prior to meeting the commander – and reluctantly handed over the tool. With a few mumbled words of thanks, Tucker, once again, turned his attention to the job at hand.

This tinkering, of one sort or another, had been going on now for almost three weeks. With little to keep him occupied now that his duties with the High Council were at an end, the commander had gone in search of the mechanical room. Unfortunately, when he arrived, he'd found the door unlocked. From that point on, there was no holding him back. The maintenance staff – no doubt unbeknownst to their supervisors – continued to take shameless advantage of the commander's willingness to work. He'd unclogged pipes, repaired damaged circuits, soldered, spackled, and performed countless routine tasks. No job was apparently too menial or distasteful.

But this was hardly surprising, Luvan thought resignedly. The man was bored. He missed performing the duties of chief engineer on board the Human starship, _Enterprise_. Given his impatience, his restless nature and his attention span, which lately seemed to be shorter than that of a two-year-old Vulcan child, it was obvious that the commander was ill-suited to a life of inactivity.

"There." Tucker scrambled to his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans. "All done."

"You have eleven minutes, Commander."

Tucker broke into a grin. "Then I guess I'd better get a move on." Bending over, he quickly picked up the tools he'd been using and deposited them in a metal cabinet, which stood near the door leading out of the maintenance room.

While the commander showered and changed, Luvan mentally reviewed his security arrangements for the evening. Shortly after his meeting with Vaaris, he had deployed a small, elite team to secure T'Pol's family home and the surrounding area. Twenty minutes ago, Lieutenant Komas had left the embassy grounds with Commander T'Pol. The officers protecting Ministers Vaaris, Kuvak, and T'Pau had checked in at the appointed times; they were also en route. As an added precaution, Luvan had assigned one officer to covertly monitor communications at the Ministry of Security. That might buy them a little time if the location of the meeting was discovered.

He refused to second-guess his personnel assignments; he'd made the logical choices. Besides, at one time or other over the past month, most of these officers had already been entrusted with safeguarding the five people who were responsible for sifting through the voluminous data Minister Speth had collected over the years.

Each dossier, each intelligence report had to be carefully studied and dissected, facts checked and rechecked. As soon as there was indisputable proof that someone had a connection, no matter how tenuous, to the Romulan Empire, that individual was ordered to submit to a blood test. Those who were found to have the distinctive Romulan antibody in their blood were quietly taken into custody by the Ministry of Security and interrogated. Some were eventually cleared; others were not. For those treacherous few, incarceration was not an option. The Romulans were ruthless and unrepentant. They did not take prisoners and expected no quarter in return.

Luvan still did not approve of the decision to include Tucker in this screening process. Classified information did not belong in the hands of an alien, even one who'd proven that he could hold his tongue. Speth had compiled a great deal of sensitive data on every species – Romulans, Orions, Andorians, Tellarites, Humans, etc. – that threatened the safety and security of Vulcan. Obviously he'd never intended for that data to be viewed by someone like Tucker.

And then there were the questions the commander asked all too frequently about the treatment of the accused. This only provided indisputable proof of how dangerously naïve Humans were when it came to dealing with the Romulans. The Romulans had no conception of justice or fair play. They were trained from childhood to identify the weaknesses of their opponents and then exploit them mercilessly. Humans would never accept that. They would try to reason with them, to reform them. No, if Vulcan was going to survive this crisis, Starfleet and the United Earth government must never learn of their efforts to eliminate the Romulan threat. Misguided human compassion combined with a blind commitment to due process could doom them all.

Luvan looked up as the bathroom door opened and the commander emerged. Dressed in his uniform, his hair still wet from the shower, Tucker held up two fingers and called across the room, "Two minutes to spare." Without waiting for a response, he flopped down on the bed and proceeded to put on his shoes and socks. "Didn't think I'd make it, did ya?"

"I am duly impressed." Luvan walked the short distance to the door and opened it. "Now if you don't mind, Commander, it is time to go."

"Right." Tucker slapped his hands against his thighs and got to his feet. "Did T'Pol get off okay? I was so busy with the auxiliary generator that I forgot to ask."

"Everything is going according to plans. Commander T'Pol left with Lieutenant Komas precisely on schedule, a feat we will not be able to match if we do not leave immediately."

"Take it easy. I'm goin'." Tucker raised a hand placatingly as he walked out the door and started down the hall.

Luvan quickly double-checked the jamming device he carried on his person and then followed Tucker. So far he hadn't discovered any listening equipment, hidden cameras, or other detection devices in the embassy, but he preferred to err on the side of caution.

Upon reaching the end of the corridor, Luvan reached over and pressed the call button for the lift. While they waited, Tucker asked, "Have you ever heard of the Uncle Remus Tales?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Not really. It's just that they've been on my mind lately." Crossing his arms over his chest, Tucker leaned back against the wall. "My grandma used to read them to me when I was a kid. My favorite character was Brer Rabbit." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "He was a crafty devil who loved to outsmart the likes of Brer Bear and Brer Fox."

Bears and foxes? True to form, the commander's choice of topics for conversation was certainly unpredictable. "I am sure that Human children find tales of quaint fur-bearing creatures entertaining, but Vulcan children prefer stories with more substance, stories which will improve their minds."

"Oh, these stories were plenty educational. Brer Rabbit taught me that intelligence and quick thinking can overcome sheer brute force. That's been a source of some comfort to me, given that a fair number of the people I've met since I left Earth are bigger and nastier than I am."

"I stand corrected."

When the doors opened, the two men entered the lift.

"Brer Rabbit taught me something else," Tucker continued. "Always have a fallback position. You see, whenever he got into trouble, Brer Rabbit would head for this big ol' briar patch. It was the one place he knew he'd be safe." Tucker ran his tongue around the inside of one cheek. "I think that's what the Romulans are doin' now; they're headin' for the briar patch."

Luvan wrinkled his brow slightly as he tried to make the leap from rabbits to Romulans.

Tucker seemed to realize almost immediately that further clarification was required. "The intelligence data we've been reviewing has made it pretty clear that infiltrators and Romulan sympathizers have been operating at will on your planet for centuries. However, now that the High Council and the Ministry of Security are starting to crack down, those same people are undoubtedly heading for their fallback position, just like Brer Rabbit."

"Hence the briar patch. Yes, I see." Luvan took a moment to consider the commander's words. "It is, of course, logical to assume that the Romulans have established an internal security network. Something of that sort would be necessary for their continued survival."

"That's why I kinda wish your people hadn't tipped your hand so soon. Once you made the first arrests and started mandatory blood testing, you lost the element of surprise. It's gonna be a lot harder now to get the goods on the Romulan infiltrators and their Vulcan cronies. It's a good bet that a lot of vital evidence has already been destroyed."

"So it is your contention that we should have continued to allow these Romulan infiltrators to undermine our government until we had incontestable proof that they were subversives?"

"Not necessarily." The lift doors opened and the two men headed for the lobby. "I'm just sayin'…"

Luvan stopped in his tracks. He knew instantly that something was wrong. The lobby was empty except for the security guard at the front desk. At this time of day, there should be a steady stream of people in and out of the building. Looking around quickly, he murmured, "Commander, return to the lift."

With a surprised look on his face, Tucker stared at the major. "What?"

"Go back to the lift." Luvan's hand moved to his side arm as his eyes continued to scan the corridor. "Now."

"But…"

"Keep your hand away from your weapon, Vulcan," a voice said from behind them. Turning his head in the direction of the voice, Luvan saw two Starfleet officers, phase pistols drawn, step cautiously out of a doorway. At the same time, two other men stepped out from behind two of the large columns that flanked the corridor; both had their phase pistols at the ready. As Luvan slowly raised his right hand, a stocky, middle-aged officer with a balding head reached around behind the Vulcan and carefully removed his sidearm.

"What in the hell's goin' on!" Tucker took a step forward, but stopped instantly when two of the men raised their weapons menacingly and pointed them straight at his chest.

The ranking officer, a tall, well-muscled lieutenant with skin the color of rich mahogany, motioned for them to hold their fire and said, "Starfleet Security. Come with us, Commander Tucker. We have a warrant for your arrest."

"Me?" Dumbfounded, Tucker gaped at the officer. "What am I supposed to have done?"

"You're charged with espionage…

"What!"

"…and treason."

"Treason!" Tucker desperately searched the faces of the four men, but their expressions gave nothing away. "There's gotta be some mistake."

"There's no mistake, sir," the lieutenant said, as one of the other security men holstered his weapon and roughly cuffed Tucker's hands behind his back. "The warrant charges you with operating as an agent for the Vulcan government."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

"THE BRIAR PATCH"

By DinahD

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: I want to thank all of you for your reviews. I really appreciate it. This chapter includes some mild profanity. I hope no one is offended by it. It seemed appropriate for the situation. I also want to extend my sincere thanks to Blacknblue and Rigil Kent for their invaluable assistance.

CHAPTER 9: ARCHER

"Do you have a minute, Captain?"

Damn! No matter what he did, Jonathan Archer couldn't seem to catch a break. He knew perfectly well that Phlox was standing beside his command chair – and had been for the past three or four minutes. Why couldn't the doctor take the hint and head back down to sickbay. It must be obvious that he didn't want to talk to anybody just now, especially the resident pill pusher.

"Captain?"

"This isn't a good time, Phlox," Archer growled. "I'm busy."

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Later."

"I have the results of your annual physical."

Wincing, Archer tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. He'd been avoiding the doctor ever since Phlox had browbeaten him getting a checkup. He'd guessed that the results weren't going to be good, given the stress he'd been under for the past couple of months. The fact that the doctor felt it was necessary to track him down and confront him on the bridge only confirmed that fact.

Phlox stepped around the chair so that he was squarely in Archer's line of sight. The no-nonsense look on his face made it clear that this time he didn't intend to be denied.

"Shall we take this conversation to your ready room?"

Archer knew the doctor was right. He didn't want his lousy medical report to become public knowledge.

Grudgingly, he stood up and waved a hand theatrically in the general direction of his ready room. "After you, Doctor."

They'd only taken a couple of steps when Hoshi called out, "Captain, Admiral Gardner wants to speak with you." When Phlox looked at her skeptically, she quickly added, "It's important, sir."

The picture of innocence, Archer raised both hands. "I swear I didn't put her up to this, Phlox. Admiral Gardner really does want to speak with me."

Phlox knew when he was beaten, but before he struck his colors he fired one final salvo. "I expect to see you in sickbay in half an hour, Captain. No more excuses."

"Don't worry, I'll be there." Glad for reprieve – even one which lasted only for thirty minutes – Archer started for his ready room. As soon as the door slid open, he called over his shoulder to Hoshi, "Put the call through."

Once inside the room, away from the inquisitive eyes of the bridge crew, his shoulders sagged. He knew he'd only traded one problem for another. But that wasn't too surprising. That was the story of his life: one problem right after another with no solutions in sight. He'd barely slid into his seat when Admiral Gardner's face appeared on the monitor in front of him. The admiral didn't look much better than Archer felt. Evidently it was a bad day all-around.

"Lieutenant Reed's on his way back to _Enterprise_," the admiral said, ignoring the social amenities and moving straight to the subject at hand.

"Did he see Trip?"

"Yes, for all the good it did. Three days and Tucker hasn't said more than, 'I'm no spy,' to anyone."

"That sounds like Trip. He's too damn stubborn for his own good."

"You can say that again. We've brought in the best interrogators Starfleet has to offer. And so far we've got exactly nothing to show for it." Gardner's eyes bored into Archer. "I want you down here, Jon. Maybe you can get through to him."

Archer took a deep breath, struggling to control the anger he felt bubbling up from deep inside him. For the past three weeks, Starfleet had quietly been investigating a series of security leaks. Every time one of their investigators turned over a rock something damning crawled out, further implicating Commander Charles Tucker III. After piecing together bits and pieces, Starfleet Security had decided that Tucker apparently sold out Earth for nothing more than a little slap and tickle with T'Pol. While Archer didn't buy that for a minute, he still wanted to throttle Trip for getting mixed up in this mess in the first place. He was sick to death of secrets and half-truths. He sure as hell didn't want to see Trip or talk to him.

It was just too damn bad he couldn't think of a legitimate reason to tell the admiral to take a hike. Resigned, he finally muttered, "When?"

"As soon as possible. The future of the Coalition, our relations with the Vulcans – everything's on hold until we can get this situation resolved. If Tucker's innocent, I want him back on the job. Evidently the High Council is willing to give him access to their meetings once again."

"And if he's found guilty?"

Gardner scrubbed a hand over his face. "Then we're going to hang his ass out to dry. I don't like it, but there it is. I suppose the Vulcans could have been manipulating him without his knowledge, but we have no choice but to make an example of him. We're still the new kids on the block out here. Humans can't afford to get a reputation for being easy marks."

"Have you located T'Pol yet?"

"No," Gardner snapped, his brow furrowing in a scowl. This was obviously a sore subject with him. "Starfleet Security screwed up royally when they let her slip through their fingers. From the information we've been able to gather so far, she's as guilty as Tucker… probably more so. We should have known better than to allow someone trained by the Vulcan Ministry of Security to serve on one of our ships."

Jon stiffened. He'd expected something like this, but the words still stung nonetheless. Gardner knew full well who had pushed Starfleet into giving T'Pol a commission, and he had no intention of letting Archer forget it.

"You're wrong about T'Pol, Admiral. She hasn't been anything but loyal." Archer knew he was wasting his breath, but he still felt the need to defend his former first officer. In similar circumstances, he knew that she would do the same for him. "We would never have been able to stop the Xindi weapon without her help. She's saved all our butts countless…"

Gardner held up a hand, silencing him. "If she's innocent, why hasn't she come forward?"

"Maybe she doesn't think she'll get a fair trial from Humans."

"We have no intention of railroading either of them. They'll have their day in court. If they're innocent, they have nothing to worry about." Gardner nervously ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly reminding Archer of Trip. "Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Just get down here, the sooner the better."

Feeling restless, Jon started to rise from his chair, but quickly thought better of it and sat back down again. "Admiral, I'm not sure I'm the right man for the job."

Clearly taken by surprise, Gardner asked, "Why not?"

"You've already brought in the best interrogators in Starfleet," Archer hedged. "I seriously doubt that I could do any better…and besides I still have a lot of work to do on the convoy schedules."

Because of his former dealings with Ambassador Gral, Archer was one of a handful of people who had spent the past month trying to avert war between the Tellarites and the Andorians, who continued to deny that they were responsible for the attacks on the Tellarite ships. These Coalition representatives, minus the Vulcans who were once again conspicuous by their absence, managed to hammer out a deal at the last minute whereby Earth, Rigel and Coridan pledged to develop a convoy system to protect cargo vessels. The Tellarites, satisfied with the Coalition's quick response to the crisis, agreed to hold off on delivering their ultimatum. Now all Jonathan Archer had to do was find a way to make the convoy system work.

"I know you're busy," Gardner replied, "but this situation is every bit as volatile as the attacks on the Tellarites. You're Tucker's friend, aren't you? If he'd talk to anybody, it would be you."

"I'm afraid we aren't as close as we used to be," Jon admitted tightly. "I seriously doubt that he'd confide in me."

It was a bitter admission for him to make. He and Trip had once been so close. Then the Xindi weapon had changed everything. He'd forced himself to remain isolated in the Expanse, to focus solely on the mission; it was the only way he knew to get the job done. When the Xindi threat was over, Jon had wanted to rekindle their friendship, but by that time it was like trying to repair a shattered pane of glass. He'd tried one more time to be a friend when Trip was battling depression. Tried and failed. Trip was more distant now than ever. Every spare moment was spent with the Vulcans. Jon balled his hands into two tight fists. How could Trip choose them over his own people?

Gardner sat quietly and studied Archer. "I thought it was strange that you hadn't tried to see him."

"Trip knows he could have come to me – we could have talked – but he didn't. It's a little late now. He's made his bed."

"So you've made up your mind that he's guilty."

Jon hesitated as he struggled to get past his feelings of betrayal. "No," he finally answered. "Trip's the most honorable man I know. I can't believe it's in him to commit treason."

Gardner nodded. "Then help us prove it. So far we've been able to keep this out of the media, but several reporters have already started sniffing around. You know what the mood's been like on Earth lately. Once this gets out Tucker's career will be ruined, whether he's guilty or not. I don't have to tell you what a loss that would be to our Warp 7 program, not to mention the damage this would do to any future diplomatic relations with the Vulcans."

"I understand." Archer knew he'd pushed the admiral as far has he could. "Let me talk to Lieutenant Reed first."

"Do whatever you have to do, but I want you in the embassy by 14:00 today. That's the time for Tucker's next interrogation session. I'll arrange for you to observe. After you've seen firsthand what we're up against, I want you to talk to him."

"I'll be there," Archer replied, resigned now to his fate.

"Good. I'll be waiting for your report. Don't let me down, Jon."

As soon as the admiral signed off, Archer sank back and buried his face in his hands. He'd been dreading this. It had been hard enough to confront Malcolm when he appeared to be in league with the Klingons. This shaped up to be a hundred times worse. But then he should have known that he couldn't run from his responsibilities. He should have headed for the brig as soon as Trip was brought in. Face things and be done with them. That's what his father had always taught him.

Restlessly, Archer pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to the viewport. Why did everything have to change? The stars stayed the same. Why couldn't he? Why couldn't his friends? Trip had been an important part of his life for almost two decades. He'd loved him like a brother. And T'Pol. He'd only known her for a quarter of that time, but he'd learned to trust her with his ship, his crew, his very life. Now he was going to be forced to give evidence at their courts-martial. Sometimes life really sucked.

Jon was saved from any further soul-searching by a call from Hoshi. Reed's shuttle had landed and he was on his way to the ready room. Less than two minutes later the door chimes rang and Malcolm entered.

"Any luck?" Archer looked into Reed's eyes and immediately knew the answer. Malcolm's words only served as confirmation.

"No, sir. I'm sorry."

Archer motioned to the chair by the door. Uncharacteristically, Malcolm pulled the chair over without any further prodding and sat down.

Leaning forward, Jon rested his forearms on the desk. "Let's hear it."

"I tried everything to get him to talk," Reed said wearily. "He just glared at me and muttered, 'I don't care what you think. I'm not some damn spy.' That was it. I begged. I pleaded. I yelled. Nothing." Malcolm dropped his head and ran one finger absently over the edge of the desk. "I thought I could make him listen to reason. I was wrong. He tuned me out as soon as I walked into the brig."

"It's not your fault, Malcolm. You did your best."

"My best…right." In frustration, Reed suddenly brought his fist down hard on the desk. "Doesn't he realize how much trouble he's in? He could spend the rest of his life in prison! Everything he's worked for will be destroyed!"

Tensing, Archer sat motionless. It was never pleasant to hear one's worst fears spoken aloud. It gave them an indisputable sense of legitimacy. If he and Malcolm could see that the shit was about to hit the fan, why couldn't Trip?

Quickly regaining his composure, Malcolm murmured, "I apologize for my outburst, sir. This has been a very frustrating day."

"Don't apologize. Your observations are right on the mark. Trip's been in trouble before, but nothing like this."

"Maybe he's trying to cover for T'Pol. That would be just like him: the perfect southern gentleman right to the bitter end."

"You think T'Pol's guilty?" Archer asked testily.

"No, but something Trip saw or heard might lead him to believe that she's been spying for the Vulcans. I think he'd do anything to protect her, including foolishly taking the blame himself. She means a great deal to him."

"Yeah, I know."

Malcolm was right. That sounded exactly like something Trip would do. Archer glanced at the chronometer on his desk. There was someone he wanted to speak to and time was running short. He hit the comm button. "Archer to Lieutenant Mayweather."

After the hoopla surrounding their return from the Expanse, Archer had expected to see well-deserved promotions for members of his crew. Starfleet, however, saw things differently. The official word was that they couldn't afford to give _Enterprise_ personnel preferential treatment. They would just have to be patient. Over a year later Starfleet was just now getting around to giving Archer's people something more tangible than a pat on the back for their sacrifices in the fight against the Xindi. Last week, promotions had come down for Mayweather, Sato, Kelly and five other ensigns. Gardner had also assured Archer that the promotion list next month would include the names of Reed, Hess, Rostov, and at least twenty others.

"Mayweather here, sir."

"Meet me in the launch bay. I want you to ferry me down to the embassy."

"Aye, sir."

As soon as Jon started to rise, Malcolm scrambled to his feet.

"Admiral Gardner wants me to see Trip this afternoon," Archer stated.

Reed seemed to brighten a little. "Bringing in the first team, are they?"

"I don't know that I'd go quite that far." Jon slowly walked around the end of his desk. "It's 10:45 now. I'm going to try to find Soval. I think we're overdue for a chat. While I'm gone, I want you and Hoshi to go over the evidence we've gathered one more time."

"We've been over and over that data, sir," Malcolm groaned. "Everything points to Trip's guilt."

"Then go over it again," Archer snapped. "I don't think Trip's guilty; neither do you. We must be missing something. Find it."

Malcolm lifted his chin. "Aye, sir."

Archer headed for the door. He briefly entertained the idea of asking Reed to include _Enterprise_'s new first officer, Lt. Commander Kevin Byum, but he decided against it. Something told him that this was one investigation that should be kept strictly in the family.

Jon raised his hand to open the door, but Malcolm's voice stopped him. "Before you go, sir, if I could have one more minute of your time?" Archer turned to face him and nodded. "I don't make this suggestion lightly, but…I'd like to contact Harris. Perhaps he might know something that would help Trip."

Lips compressed into a thin line, Jon folded his arms over his chest as he considered Reed's suggestion. The idea had some merit, but he'd just as soon avoid any further dealings with Harris. The man couldn't be trusted. But then again, if he knew something that could help Trip and T'Pol, if he could point Reed toward the real culprits, maybe it would be worth it.

"If Harris has information, he'll probably want something in return. Are you prepared to deal with that, Lieutenant?"

"Are you, sir?" Reed looked unflinchingly at the captain.

"Make the call." Archer slapped the button and the door slid open. "We'll deal with any quid-pro-quo issues when and if they arise."

As he strode across the bridge, Jon said, "Hoshi, tell Phlox I'm sorry, but Admiral Gardner wants me at the embassy. My visit to sickbay will have to wait until I get back."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"If you would just slow down, sir, I could brief you on…"

"I don't need a briefing," Archer growled. What had he been thinking when he asked Admiral Gardner's adjutant to help him locate Soval? He must have been out of his mind. The woman was a menace. "I appreciate your help, but I'm sure you have other duties to attend to. Now that I've seen the ambassador, I can find my way back to our embassy."

"It's no trouble, sir," Lieutenant Greta Troeger replied primly. "It wouldn't do for you to get lost."

Archer gritted his teeth. Subtle hints were lost on this woman. He began to lengthen his strides. If he couldn't discourage her from following him, maybe he could outdistance her. She was almost as bad as one of Phlox's Aldebaran mud leeches.

Five feet five inches tall with wavy brown hair, laser-sharp brown eyes, and a mouth that was just a little too wide for her oval face, the lieutenant was a force to be reckoned with. Her life apparently revolved around Starfleet and little else. She willingly worked long hours, approaching each task with an accountant's attention to detail and an organizational ability that put lesser mortals to shame. Unfortunately, since she expected the same dedication and perfection from everyone else, she spent most of her life annoyed, disgusted or downright outraged. Jon snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye. It was really too bad, too. She had a nice shape for a thirty-something woman, and her low, throaty voice would be sexy as hell if it was wrapped in a less intimidating package.

The two officers were hurrying along one of the wide walkways which cut through the Vulcan capital city. Archer had to admit that these flora-lined paths were an improvement over similar urban settings on Earth. Here, ground level was designated for pedestrian traffic only. Vehicles either traveled below the surface or used cantilevered landing platforms, which jutted from buildings high overhead.

"Admiral Gardner was very specific, Captain." Not to be denied, she quickened her pace, taking two steps for every one of Archer's. "He wants to be sure you fully understand Starfleet's position vis-a-vis Commander Tucker."

"Trust me, I understand Starfleet's position," Archer snapped. "I got it straight from the admiral a couple of hours ago. I don't need to hear it again from you."

"But it's absolutely vital that you understand…"

That did it. Coming to an abrupt halt, Archer planted his hands on his hips and glared at Troeger. "Look, I have some thinking to do, Lieutenant. What I need right now is privacy, not a lecture from you. I'll be at the embassy at 14:00 as per the admiral's request. You're dismissed."

"But…"

"Disappear. That's an order."

Stiffening, Lieutenant Troeger allowed her lower lip to slide forward just enough to let Archer know that she was thoroughly pissed. It didn't take much imagination to see that a struggle of titanic proportions was going on in that regimented brain of hers. Should she stand her ground, thereby disobeying a direct order, or should she leave without completing her assigned task? Both options were unacceptable.

Jon didn't have time for this nonsense. "Good-bye, Lieutenant," he said with an air of finality. Then he started down a walkway that led away from the embassy and, hopefully, away from her.

"Admiral Gardner will not be pleased!" she shouted at his retreating form.

"I don't care!"

Refusing to look back to see if he was being followed, Jon proceeded full steam ahead. After several minutes, when he failed to hear the pitter-patter of little feet, he finally decided to slacken his pace. The heat was really oppressive. He raised a hand to shield his eyes as he turned his face skyward. He didn't think he'd ever get used to a red sky. It just made this sweltering planet seem even hotter.

He could sure use a cold beer right about now. Something to cool him off and help numb the pain.

He saw a bench ahead near a small decorative garden of rocks and succulent plants and decided to sit down. The plants had a surprising sweet aroma similar to the hyacinths that bloomed in his mother's garden each spring. After wiping one sleeve over his brow, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. Now that he'd managed to ditch Lieutenant Troeger, he could take a few minutes to try to get himself under control before he had to return to the embassy.

Thanks to Troeger's birddog instincts, she'd managed to locate Soval in record time. Unfortunately, the subsequent meeting had not gone well. True to form, the Vulcans had washed their hands of Trip. There would be no statement from the High Council stating categorically that the Vulcan government had not suborned the commander and to their knowledge, no acts of espionage had been committed. Soval was sorry, but there was nothing he could do.

At least Soval had eased his mind slightly in regard to T'Pol. The ambassador had refused to say where she was, but he made it clear that she was safe…and would remain so. Even though she was still viewed as a renegade by many of her people, the Vulcans would not give her up. The High Council had no intention of allowing Starfleet to sit in judgment of a Vulcan citizen.

Trip, on the other hand, had no one to help him. Not his family. Not Starfleet. Not the government of United Earth. Not even his new best friends, the Vulcans. No one gave a damn about him but Jonathan Archer and a few loyal friends back on _Enterprise_.

Jon looked up when two Vulcan males walked by, but when they made a point of ignoring him, he returned the favor. He had to think. He had to find some way to help Trip. Staring off into the distance, he mentally began to work through the evidence Malcolm and Hoshi had uncovered.

"Captain Archer?" a feminine voice called softly from behind him.

Jon stifled a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. Even on Vulcan – a planet full of total strangers – he couldn't get any peace. At least he was sure of one thing: it wasn't Lieutenant Troeger. The voice was too high pitched. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a pretty young woman in the uniform of Starfleet Intelligence. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.

"You may not remember me," she said as she walked around the bench to face him. "My name is Gannet Brooks."

"Of course." Archer got to his feet. "Forgive me, I should have recognized you. In my own defense, you do look different in uniform."

"It's a nice change of pace. Undercover work is exciting, but it gets old very quickly."

"You're stationed here on Vulcan?"

"Yes, sir. I'm one of three intelligence officers currently attached to our embassy." She squared her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her back. "I've spent the last month building a dossier on Commander Tucker."

That got Archer's attention. "You helped put Trip in jail?" he snapped.

"I did my job: collect and analyze intelligence information."

"I see." Archer lifted his chin dismissively and looked off to the right. "I'm afraid I have an appointment at the embassy at 14:00. It was nice to see you again, but now you must…"

"Travis told me where I might find you," she interjected before he could make his escape. "I only want a few minutes of your time."

"If you're here to tell me Trip's guilty, you can forget it."

"During my time on _Enterprise_, I really didn't have a chance to get to know the commander, but I know Travis thinks a great deal of him. I've come across something which might be important and…well…I'd like to help if I can."

Archer studied her closely. This all seemed too good to be true. "Do your superiors know you're doing this?"

"Your security clearance covers anything I might divulge."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Do you want to hear what I have to say or don't you?"

What choice did he have? He was desperate for anything that might help Trip, and he had a sinking feeling that Lieutenant (JG) Brooks was well aware of that fact. Why was she doing this? Odds were that it wasn't out of the sheer goodness of her heart. After all, he really didn't know her. Could she be trusted? Was her information reliable? No, there were just too many unanswered questions.

"I'm sorry, but I really do have to get back to the embassy," he finally said.

"Commander Tucker's interrogation. Yes, I know. I promise to keep things brief." Her face was suddenly transformed by a dazzling smile. "You won't regret it."

After a brief struggle with his conscience, Archer reluctantly motioned toward a nearby walkway. "After you."

A Vulcan woman, holding two children by the hand, came toward them. The smallest child, a pretty little girl with dark brown hair, looked at them inquisitively. Her mother and older brother kept their eyes focused straight ahead as though the two visitors to their planet didn't exist. Gannet, in typical Human fashion, waved to the little girl. The child responded by dipping her head and bashfully moving closer to her mother.

As soon as the family had moved out of earshot, Gannet said, "After Paxton tried to wipe out Starfleet Headquarters with the verteron array, our agents began to actively infiltrate Terra Prime. We've had some casualties, but we've also had our share of successes. A week ago, one of our agents shared a bottle of gin with a former member of your crew."

"Who?"

"Commander Kelby."

Archer shook his head. "If you think Kelby's part of Terra Prime, you're barking up the wrong tree. Ensign Masaro was the agent. He confessed that much to me personally, right before he put a phase pistol to his head."

"Masaro stole the commanders' DNA and sabotaged your shuttlepod. That doesn't mean he was the only crewman who was interested in the garbage Paxton was selling."

"Starfleet Security did background checks on everyone in my crew. Kelby was cleared of any involvement."

"Times change, people change. Our agent spent three hours listening to Kelby's drunken ramblings. When we did a follow-up, everything Kelby had said checked out. Now do you want to hear the rest of this or am I just wasting my time?"

"Get on with it," Archer grumbled. He knew he was making this harder for Gannet that it needed to be, but he was tired of being bombarded by his subordinates' sordid little secrets. Wasn't anybody who they appeared to be?

"Evidently, Kelby's experience with the Orion women really messed him up. That's why he requested a transfer back to Earth. He'd had his fill of aliens, especially alien females. He became active in Terra Prime as soon as he reached Starfleet's research and development complex at Bozeman, Montana."

Archer took a few minutes to absorb this information. Unfortunately, it made sense. "I wondered at the time why he was willing to settle for a routine desk job instead of a posting to another ship. He told me he wanted to get married, but the girl refused to accept his ring until he promised to settle down." Archer smiled ruefully. "It seemed reasonable to me. I've been in that same position myself."

"There was a girl and he did get married. It lasted a month and a half. Apparently he had some intimacy issues. The bottle's been his best friend ever since."

"Kelby certainly wasn't in Trip's league, but he was a good, solid engineer. He could have been a real asset on another ship."

"Before Kelby ever left _Enterprise_, he'd decided that Commander Tucker was out to sabotage his career. There'd been a fight…"

"But only because Kelby was under the influence of one of the alien women. Trip understood that. Besides, he's not the kind of man to hold a grudge."

"Be that as it may, all Kelby could see was a "little tin god" who came back and stole his job because he wasn't good enough." Reaching up, Gannet brushed a lock of hair back into place. "It also didn't help when the ship's rumor mill started to comment on the amount of time Tucker was, once again, spending with T'Pol."

Things suddenly began to fall into place for Archer. Even when Trip came back from _Columbia_ his mind was often on other things. If Kelby had the inclination, he would have had more than enough time to make a few alterations.

Without further delay, he pulled out his communicator. "Archer to _Enterprise_."

"Sato here, sir."

"I want to speak to Lieutenant Reed. Be sure the channel's secure."

"Aye, sir."

After a few moments, Reed came on the line. "Reed here, sir. Is there a problem?"

"Malcolm, we may have just been handed our first break. I want you to work with Lieutenant Hess. Put together a team, people you trust without reservation, and go over the ship with a fine tooth comb."

"Are we looking for anything in particular?"

"I want to know if someone could have devised a way to manipulate or fabricate the evidence against Trip."

"We've checked and rechecked the systems. There are no irregularities."

"Dig deeper. Commander Kelby may have left us with a few parting gifts."

"Kelby?"

"He's a member of Terra Prime."

"Bloody hell. I knew there was something about him I didn't like. We'll get on it right away, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Archer out."

Jon was just putting away his communicator when Gannet came to a halt. "I won't take up any more of your time, Captain. We both have other matters which require our attention."

"Thanks for the information." He stuck out his hand and she shook it.

"I'm sorry I had to waylay you, but it would have taken weeks for this little tidbit to be released through official channels, and even then it would only have been on a need-to-know basis. We have to protect our agent. If word leaked out, it wouldn't take long for Kelby to figure out who informed on him."

"I understand. I only hope that it will help us prove that the evidence against Trip was planted."

"Good luck, Captain." Upping the wattage on her smile, she winked at Archer. "Tell Travis I'll be seeing him."

As Archer watched her walk away, he decided that Travis was a very lucky man.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

"THE BRIAR PATCH"

By Dinah

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Genre: Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

Author's note: Thank you for your reviews. This chapter includes some mild profanity. I hope no one is offended by it. It seemed appropriate for the situation. I also want to extend my sincere thanks to Blacknblue and Rigil Kent for their invaluable assistance.

CHAPTER 10: ARCHER

With time growing short, Jon quickly covered the short distance to the embassy. Upon entering the main lobby, he checked the large chronometer on the wall: 13:52. He'd have to hurry. The detention area was tucked away in a corner of the top floor. Admiral Gardner was probably waiting there for him. He started for the lift, but quickly changed course when a problem at the reception desk caught his attention.

"You're not listening to me," a middle-aged man snapped, his voice rising in frustration. He was dressed casually in a navy blue shirt and khaki pants, but it was obvious from the cut of the garments that he was a man of wealth and position. "I'll say it again…slowly." He leaned forward and glared, a trick he'd no doubt used frequently in the past when underlings failed to deliver as promised.

This time, however, he appeared to have met his match. The young ensign seated behind the circular black desk was obviously not impressed. Towheaded, with the body of a weight-lifter and the face of a cherub, he wore the expression of someone who had heard it all before. Archer found that rather disquieting, considering that the young man looked to be no older than twenty-five.

"I have an appointment with Commander Charles Tucker III," the man pressed. "I've tried calling his room. No one answers. Find him and tell him I'm down here waiting for him."

"I'm sorry, sir," the ensign replied in a calm, composed voice, "but if you've tried to contact the commander and he doesn't answer, perhaps he's indisposed."

"Indisposed?" The man made no effort to hide his disgust. "You make him sound like some little, old, grey-haired maiden lady."

"It would probably be best if you rescheduled your appointment."

"There's nothing I'd like better, but I can't reschedule my appointment with Tucker if I can't find him. I'm a guest at this embassy and a citizen of Earth. What do I have to do to get a little help around here?"

Archer's eyes darted around the lobby. Apparently he wasn't the only person interested in this conversation. Several other people had stopped to listen, including one woman who'd interviewed Jon not too long ago for one of Earth's news agencies. The shrewd look on her face clearly indicated that she was weighing the news value of what she was hearing. That wasn't good. Starfleet hadn't made public the fact that Trip was under arrest; it would be best not to call attention to his absence. Since the man apparently seemed unwilling to let the matter rest, Archer decided he'd better intervene.

Walking over to the desk, he said quietly, "Excuse me. Perhaps I can be of assistance. My name's Jonathan Archer."

The man stared at Jon. "Captain Jonathan Archer?"

Archer sighed inwardly. This was when the glad-handing and back-slapping usually began. He didn't think he'd ever feel comfortable with the fuss most people tended to make over him.

"Yes."

"This is quite an honor." The man stuck out his hand and Archer shook it. "My name's Martin Granville – Marty to my friends. I'm the CEO of the United Earth Cargo Corporation. Maybe you've heard of it." Archer nodded. "I have an appointment with Trip Tucker, but he's late." Craning his neck, Granville took one more look around the lobby. "I know he's staying here at the embassy, but I can't seem to get any help from this gentleman." He motioned with his head in the direction of the ensign on duty.

Glancing at the young man's nametag, Archer made a mental note to run a check on him. Ensign Roudebush might make an interesting addition to his crew.

Archer motioned to one of the waiting rooms, which opened off the lobby and Granville followed him. Once they reached the far side of the room, away from prying eyes and ears, Archer said, "My guess is that Trip's been called into some last minute meeting." That was stretching things a bit, but it wasn't far from the truth. "You're a busy man. I'm sure you know how it is."

Granville's eyes narrowed. "If that was the case, I think Commander Tucker would have contacted me. In our previous meetings, he's always conducted himself in a very professional manner."

"I'll be seeing Trip later today. I'll let him know that he missed your appointment."

Granville didn't look particularly pleased, but he had little choice but to acquiesce. "I guess that will have to do."

"Good." Archer really didn't have time for further conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you meeting with Trip?"

"I don't mind at all." Granville's face brightened. "I'm trying to persuade him to come to work for me."

Archer blinked. "What?"

"I want him to take over UECC's research and development department."

"Trip's thinking about leaving Starfleet?" Jon felt like he'd just been sucker punched.

"I certainly hope so. He's a tremendously hot property right now. Plenty of people have been beating down his door, but I think we've got the inside track. We're offering a first-class package: brand new state-of-the-art facility, total creative control, unlimited budget, generous compensation, incentives. As a matter of fact, I feel so strongly about bringing him on board that I'm determined to stay on Vulcan until I've got his name on a contract. Our projections show that with Trip running research and development for us, we'll be able to triple our business in ten years."

A hot property? Trip? When did all this happen? He'd always thought Trip was happy in Starfleet. Obviously that wasn't the case. Staggered by the revelations of the past couple of days, he wondered how many other things his "friend" had been keeping from him.

"I know Trip used to work for you on _Enterprise_," Granville continued, apparently unaware of Archer's discomfort. "I hope you'll put in a good word for us. Trip's told me he's impressed with our company, with what we have to offer. All we have to do now is close the deal."

"You seem to be pretty sure of Trip."

"I've spent enough time with him to know that he's not happy in Starfleet right now."

"He told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but it's easy to read between the lines. He's bored and looking for a challenge. We can give that to him and more. We've even found a place for Commander T'Pol, if she wants to tag along."

Archer knew that Trip and T'Pol had tried to be reassigned after they were denied access to the High Council. He probably should have offered to help them, but he'd had too many other things on his mind. Besides, he'd figured that this interest in Vulcan was just a phase Trip was going through. Perhaps he'd misjudged the situation.

"I tell you what," Granville said expansively. "I feel so good about this situation that I want to invite you to stop by our main plant in Indianapolis the next time you're on Earth. Trip can show you around." His smile was a bit too smug for Archer's liking. "You see, I believe in the power of positive thinking."

Jon had had just about enough. It was going to take a whole lot more than positive thinking to get Trip's ass out of jail. Besides, he was willing to bet that as soon as Granville found out that his hot property was public enemy number one, he'd be on the next ship back to Earth. It was all Archer could do to keep from laying the whole sordid mess out for this two-bit big shot. That would wipe that self-satisfied grin off of Granville's face.

"As much as I've…enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Granville…"

"Marty."

"Marty," Archer responded tightly. "I'm afraid I have another appointment. I'll tell Trip that I saw you."

"I would appreciate that." Granville offered his hand again and reluctantly Archer shook it. "It's been a real honor meeting you, Captain. If you ever decide to leave Starfleet, please look me up. There's always a place at UECC for exceptional men."

"If you'll excuse me..."

Archer started to pull his hand away, but Granville held on. "You know I'd heard from a number of people that you and Tucker used to be close. Given his engineering expertise, I'm surprised you let him get away." Behind the smile, Granville had the calculating look of a man who was carefully sizing up his opponent. After a rather tense moment, he released Archer's hand. "Fortunately, it looks as though your loss will be my gain. Good-bye, Captain."

Archer stood motionless as Granville walked away. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened. He felt vaguely as though he'd just been threatened, but Granville had been nothing but polite. Maybe it was because he didn't think his friendship with Trip was any of Granville's business. Or maybe it was because he felt like he'd just been judged and found wanting.

The normal hustle and bustle of the lobby suddenly intruded on his thoughts and he roused himself. He was late. Gardner wasn't going to be pleased. He crossed the waiting room and entered the lobby. He caught Ensign Roudebush's eye and the two men exchanged a quick nod of recognition. As he crossed to the lift, Jon was careful to avoid making eye contact with the woman from the news agency, who'd already managed to grab hold of Martin Granville. As soon as she saw Archer, though, she hesitated. Who was the bigger story? Fortunately, she opted to stick with the man she'd already cornered.

When the lift doors opened on the top floor of the embassy, Gardner was waiting for him. "I was just coming to look for you."

"Sorry. I ran into Martin Granville downstairs."

"Granville?" Gardner started down the corridor and Jon fell into step beside him. "What did he want?"

"Trip evidently." When Gardner looked askance, Jon clarified, "He wants Trip to come to work for him."

"That's interesting. I'd heard that people were sniffing around Tucker, but this is the first confirmation I've had that they're trying to steal him away from Starfleet."

"Do you know Granville?"

"We've never met, but I know of him. Don't take him lightly. He's a very influential man, who has a reputation for getting what he wants. His company already controls 60% of Earth's cargo ships, and this past year they've opened offices on half a dozen other worlds. Some people think the company's trying to grow too fast, but in the past Granville's always found a way to make things work."

"And now he wants Trip," Archer added glumly.

"If Tucker doesn't begin to cooperate, it won't make any difference who wants him. He's going to be spending the rest of his days in jail." Gardner pointed to a doorway. "He's going to be brought in here. We're in the next room." As they drew close, a security officer stood to attention and opened the door for them.

The room, with its transparent floor-to-ceiling walls on three sides, was little more than a giant glass box. The two parallel walls gave access to interrogation rooms, while the wall at the far end of the room provided a view into one of the holding cells, which at the moment was unoccupied. A wide, padded bench and a small desk with a built in computer terminal were the only furnishings in the room. On the monitor were pictures of Trip, full face and profile, a copy of his service record, and a list of the charges being brought against him.

Archer squeezed his eyes shut. This had to be nothing but a terrible nightmare. Any minute now Porthos would lick his face and he'd wake up. Trip and T'Pol would be back on _Enterprise_, and the only charges he'd have to deal with would be Trip's overly enthusiastic fouls on the basketball court. Unfortunately the admiral quickly brought him back to reality.

"We've decided to stop pulling our punches." Gardner eased down on the bench, apparently feeling every one of his fifty plus years. "We're going to lay it all out for Tucker today. JAG's sent Commander Lucia Sabatini to prosecute. She's got a reputation for going straight for the throat, but in this instance, I'm afraid that's just what we need. Maybe she can get him to cooperate."

"Lucy and I are old friends." Years ago during the NX Test Program, Archer had gotten to know Sabatini over drinks at the 602 Club. He'd always had trouble reconciling her ball-busting professional personna with the warm, funny lady, who loved romantic poetry, antique music boxes, Chardonnay, and her family, which had grown over the years to include a doting husband and four beautiful daughters.

"Since you know her, maybe the two of you can work together to… Wait a minute." Gardner pointed toward the interrogation room. "Here he comes."

Archer thought he was prepared, but the sight of Trip, shackled hand and foot, being led into the room by two sober-faced security guards left him speechless. What had seemed right and proper on Arik Soong looked obscene on his friend.

A guard motioned toward one of four chairs pulled up to a brushed metal table and Trip, clad in a grey prison jumpsuit, sat down. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he wasn't sleeping, but he was clean-shaven, his hair was neatly combed, and there was nothing in the set of his shoulders that suggested defeat. Plopping his shackled hands on the table, he stared straight ahead.

Soon after, Lucy entered the room, two padds in hand, and directed the security guards to take up positions on either side of the door. Her curly brown hair was shorter than Jon remembered and there were a few more laugh lines around her eyes, but on the whole she hadn't changed much over the years. She'd always had the sturdy build of an athlete – volleyball was her sport – but even after four children, her figure could still turn heads.

She took a moment to review the information on the padds before saying, "Please state your name for the record."

"Commander Charles Anthony Tucker III."

"My name is Commander Sabatini. I'm going to be prosecuting your case." She looked up and placed both padds on the table. "I don't see your attorney. You were instructed to have him here today."

"I don't need an attorney," Trip muttered, without making eye contact.

"You refuse representation?"

Tucker nodded.

"Aloud, Commander."

"Yes."

"That is most unwise, but if that's your decision, we'll proceed." She pulled out the chair across from Trip and sat down. "You've been questioned before. Do you understand the charges against you?"

"I understand them all right, but like I keep tellin' you people, I'm not a spy. Why won't anybody believe me?"

"Unfortunately, Commander, we have evidence to the contrary."

"You've got nothing."

Sighing, Sabatini picked up one of the padds and scrolled through it. "That is not altogether true. As a matter of fact, I feel confident that we have enough to convict you right now."

Trip grew pale, but he kept his head up and his expression fixed.

"I thought you might want to refer to this as we go through the charges. We've added a few more since the last time you were questioned." She shoved the padd across the table. "Please feel free to bring to my attention any facts which you believe to be in error."

"Your so-called evidence is nothing but errors." Trip's voice had a defiant ring, but instead of picking up the padd, he pulled his hands back as if he expected it to grow fangs and strike at him.

"I hardly think so," Sabatini sniffed superciliously. "Commander Tucker, before we go through the charges, I want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story. If you can explain your actions, it will save everybody a great deal of time."

"I've got nothing to say."

"Very well. Let's get on with it." Planting her forearms firmly on the table, she leaned forward. "You've trained your engineering staff well. It took them practically no time at all to find the subtle modifications you made to the communications system."

"I never made any modifications."

"Of course you did. How else were you able to send all those clandestine transmissions to your Vulcan friends? As a matter of fact, we have several engineers who are eagerly awaiting their chance to testify at your court-martial. Evidently they were quite impressed with your ingenuity. But then you're reputed to be the best of the best, aren't you, Commander?

"Each time you carefully deleted the information you passed along to the Vulcans, but fortunately for us, Lieutenant Sato is also very good at her job. She's been able to recover just enough so that we have a pretty good idea of the damage you've done. So far we've discovered that you passed along classified information on Starfleet ship deployments, construction timetables for our four new starships, and preliminary designs for our new space station, Deep Space One.

"Oh, and don't worry about those data disks you stashed in the embassy's mechanical room. We found those, too." Trip tilted his head as though he was trying to figure out what she was talking about. "Profiles on every senior officer in Starfleet, and your fingerprints are all over them. You really should have been a little more circumspect; some of those profiles aren't very flattering. When did you intend to pass those along to your Vulcan friends?"

Pressing his lips together, Trip just shook his head.

"You would have needed help to lay your hands on that kind of top-secret information. Why don't you do yourself a big favor and give me the names of your accomplices? If you help us, I can see that things go easier for you. Maybe even reduce your time in prison."

"Since I'm not a spy, I don't need accomplices," Trip growled.

"Suit yourself. If you want to take the fall alone, so be it."

"Why would I do it? Answer me that." Trip drew himself up, anger flashing in his eyes. "I've fought and bled for Earth. Why would I betray my own people?"

Sabatini sat back in her chair and nonchalantly brushed a speck of dust from the table. "It's the oldest story in the book, Commander. Lust for a woman."

Tucker stiffened instantly, clenching both fists. One of the guards warily took a step forward in case he might be called upon to restrain the prisoner, but Trip remained motionless.

"Looking back, the Vulcans' plan is clear enough," Sabatini stated, clearly pleased by his response. "T'Pol was put on _Enterprise_ to get to know the senior officers, identify the weak link, and then entice him into betraying Earth. When she realized that she couldn't seduce Captain Archer, she went looking for someone else…and found you.

"Your affair with T'Pol is well-documented. We have the transcripts from Paxton's trial. You stated under oath that the two of you were sleeping together. We also have affidavits from a number of your shipmates, describing your rather tortured relationship with her. And then there are your personal logs, Commander. They tell the story of a man who is hopelessly smitten, a man who is incapable of thinking straight when it comes to that woman."

Commander Sabatini got to her feet and walked slowly around the table until she was standing directly behind Trip.

"After you returned from the Expanse, you chose not to visit your parents. That was hardly the act of a dutiful son. They probably would have appreciated some consolation from you after the untimely death of their daughter, but you couldn't be bothered. You headed straight for Vulcan. Is that when they recruited you to spy for them?"

Angry and frustrated, Archer took a couple of steps forward and pressed one fist against the glass. If he could only punch through this damn wall, he could grab Trip and shake some sense into that stubborn head of his. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn't he try to defend himself? What in the hell was he waiting for?

"You need to step back from the glass, Jon," Gardner said quietly. "The one-way properties are supposed to be foolproof, but we don't want to take any chances."

A portion of Archer's brain processed the admiral's request and he dropped his hand, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. His attention was focused solely on the prisoner in the next room. The Trip Tucker he knew was open, honest, and loyal to a fault. He'd never betray Earth. He'd never give up without a fight, either. He'd be proclaiming his innocence at the top of his lungs. This Trip Tucker was a total stranger. Could he really have changed so much? Damn it, what was he hiding?

"While Captain Archer was in the Forge," Commander Sabatini continued, "you spent a lot of time closeted in the ready room with Soval. It's clear from the statements of Lieutenant Reed and several others that Soval was already manipulating you, even to the point of forcing you to disobey a direct order from Starfleet Command."

"I did what I had to do to stop a war," Trip said in a voice barely above a whisper. "It was my decision, not Soval's."

"And later, was it your idea to seek medical help from the Vulcans when you were suffering from depression or did T'Pol suggest it?"

Trip clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Oh yes, we know all about that, too. Your shipmates were more than happy to fill us in on your abnormal behavior. It didn't take long for the doctors at Starfleet Medical to make a diagnosis of clinical depression. You were smart to try to keep it a secret. With that on your record, you can just about kiss your career good-bye. But it was a stroke of luck for the Vulcans. Once they got you to the Sanctuary, they were finally able to finish the brain washing that T'Pol had started.

" From that point on, you were their fair-haired boy, weren't you, Commander? Admiral Kiran, who's made it clear that he has no love for Humans, selected you above every other officer in Starfleet to serve as an observer on the _Tar'hana_. What a surprise.

"Then following the attack on the _Ti'Mur_, you snuck away in the middle of the night with T'Pol and two other Vulcans. The next day you showed up with two data disks that purportedly contained the Romulans' timetable for conquering Vulcan and Earth. You couldn't explain how they came into the Vulcans' possession, but you were willing to swear that they were genuine. How very convenient for the Vulcans." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that, you produce proof that the Romulans are our enemies, too. Why should the Vulcans fight their own battles when they can get Humans to do it for them?"

She finished her circuit of the table and stood facing him once again.

"The Vulcans thought they were very clever when they asked Starfleet to have you and Commander T'Pol transferred from _Enterprise_ to our embassy. Not only did it give you access to up-to-the-minute information on our relations with the Coalition and the Andorians, but it also allowed you to come and go as you pleased. Surveillance records show that you slipped away several times each week with T'Pol and your Vulcan bodyguard. You always managed to shake the Starfleet Security officers who were tailing you…except for one night when you got careless. Imagine their surprise when you led them straight to the home of Minister Vaaris, the man who oversees the Vulcan Ministry of Security. I bet he took all the information you spoon fed him and never once said thank you. And you can't understand why we think you've turned on your own people."

Sabatini brought her hand down hard on the table. "I'm done playing games with you, Commander. I want to know the names of your accomplices. I want to know what other classified information you've passed to the Vulcans. I want to know the whereabouts of Commander T'Pol, and I want your help to bring her into custody."

When Trip remained silent, Sabatini lowered her voice and said, "T'Pol may be your lover, but believe me, she's not your friend. The Vulcans have thrown you to the wolves. No one in their government will even claim responsibility for getting the two of you reassigned. They're barely willing to acknowledge that you exist. You can't expect any help from them. Don't let them get away with using you like this."

Tucker got a far-away look in his eyes. Maybe he was finally beginning to realize just how alone he was.

"Just start from the beginning, Commander, and tell me how you got involved in this mess."

"I keep tellin' ya, I'm not a spy," Trip replied quietly but firmly. "I've got nothing to say."

"If you don't cooperate with me," Sabatini said ominously, "I'm going to make your life a living hell. So far we've been able to keep this out of the media, but if you don't start talking right now, you're going to be the lead story on news broadcasts from pole to pole tomorrow morning. Everyone on Earth will finally see you for the sneaky, lying bastard you really are."

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"Like hell you haven't! You sold out Earth just so you could get some Vulcan bitch in the sack!"

Archer heard Gardner call out, "Jon, no!" but he was already on his way out the door. He was so mad he could barely see straight. He was mad at Lucy Sabatini for browbeating his friend. He was mad at Trip for being so damn stubborn. He was mad at the Vulcans for dragging Trip into this sordid mess in the first place. But most of all, he was mad at himself for caring so much about Trip and _Enterprise_ and Starfleet and Earth and the Coalition and the whole damn universe, for that matter. Everybody seemed to want a little piece of him, and there just wasn't enough of him to go around.

The two guards grabbed him as soon as he set foot in the interrogation room. Angrily he tried to break their hold on him, but they only gripped his arms tighter. The scowl on Sabatini's face made her displeasure plain enough and that was fine by him. Why should he be the only one who was pissed? After a brief staring match, Lucy finally blinked first and motioned for the guards to release him.

"As usual, your timing stinks, Jon," she said coldly. "You better have a damn good reason for interrupting my interrogation."

Archer took a couple of steps forward and glared at Tucker. "I want to talk to Trip. Alone."

Planting her hands on her hips, Sabatini said, "This isn't a good time. You can talk to him later, after we're finished."

When Jon saw Trip self-consciously pull his shackled hands into his lap, he was finally able to put his anger aside long enough to really look at his friend. The stricken look on Trip's face brought him up short. What was he doing? There were enough people ganging up on Trip already. What he needed now was a friend. The least Jon could do was offer his support and a sympathetic ear.

Taking the edge off his voice, he stated, "I want to talk to him now."

Obviously annoyed, Sabatini took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. Instead of arguing with him, though, she surprised Archer by pulling out one of the chairs and motioning for him to sit down.

"No thanks. I said alone. We don't need an audience."

"You forget, Captain, you're not on _Enterprise_. Here you play by my rules." She grabbed the chair and plunked it down next to him. "Sit or leave. Your choice."

Archer was tempted to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon Trip. Frowning, he sat down.

"Actually this might work out rather well." Sabatini started to make another pass around the table. "Maybe you can be of some assistance. Tell me, Captain, a month ago when Commanders Tucker and T'Pol left the meeting with the Vulcans so abruptly, you eventually went in search of them. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you find them?"

Jon eyed her warily. "Yes."

"At the Vulcan Sanctuary on Mount Seleya?"

"Yes."

"What was Commander Tucker's condition when you found him?"

Jon looked over at Trip and saw the beseeching look on his face. Lying wasn't an option – not even for Trip – but maybe just this once he could shade the truth a little.

"He'd had a bad day. Physically, he was fine, but he was…out of sorts."

Commander Sabatini walked over to the table and picked up the padd she'd kept for herself and scrolled through the data until she found what she was looking for.

"We have a sworn statement from Ensign Luann Acre. In case you don't recognize the name, she was the shuttle pilot who took you and Admirals Gardner and Uhlani to the meeting with the Vulcans, following the attack on the _Ti'Mur_. She remained with the shuttle, so she was perfectly placed to overhear anything that was said on the landing platform. She said you appeared to be very surprised and pleased to see the commander. To her best recollection – and her memory, by the way, is excellent – you called out, 'I didn't expect to see you here. I was worried. Don't scare me like that again.' Does that tally with what you recall of the event?"

Archer shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I might have said that. I don't remember exactly. It was a long time ago."

"That sounds like something you'd say to a person who has bigger problems than just an off-day. I'll ask you once more. What was Commander Tucker's condition when you saw him? I'd appreciate the truth this time, Captain."

"What I said was the truth." Archer scrubbed a hand over his forehead as he desperately tried to phrase this so that Trip didn't come off sounding like a raving lunatic. "When Trip met with the High Priest, they talked about some things that brought back some unpleasant memories for him. He was upset."

"I think it was probably a little more serious than that. We know the commander was suffering from depression at that point. If I had to make a guess, I'd say that you thought he was having a nervous breakdown. Am I right?" She looked from Archer to Tucker and back again.

Archer studied his hands clasped together in his lap. He couldn't bring himself to look at Trip. "I'm not sure I'd go quite that far," he said finally. "Like I said, he was…upset. Something happened while we were in the Expanse – it drove a wedge between us. We just needed to talk it out."

"And two days later he shows up and he's fine, so fine that you were taken completely by surprise. Didn't you find that strange?"

Clenching his jaw, Archer turned away. He was afraid that his face might betray him. At the time, he'd wondered about Trip's miracle cure. Sure, his friend had explained about the mind meld with Torok and the memories he'd recovered about his grandparents' accident, but it had seemed almost too good to be true. After months of misery, Trip was, for all intents and purposes, back to his old self – in just two days. Jon had to admit that, sometimes when he thought about it, it did still bother him.

"I was just happy to have Trip back," Jon finally said in a carefully controlled voice. "I needed him at that meeting."

"Two days with the Vulcans, and he comes back a different person. I'd say that's pretty damning, wouldn't you, Captain?" She leaned over until she caught Archer's eye. "Is it so hard to believe that this man could turn traitor? The Vulcans have been controlling him for months."

When Archer looked up, he saw Trip sitting there like a statue chiseled from a single block of granite. The emotionless mask was back in place; only his eyes allowed Jon to catch a glimpse of the pain and humiliation he was feeling.

Purposely refusing to comment on Sabatini's last question, Archer stood up and walked to the far end of the room. He had to end this right now. "Trip and I need to talk." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the one-way glass wall, which from this side appeared no different from its other three institutional-green counterparts. "Just the two of us. No eavesdroppers."

Commander Sabatini studied him briefly. "All right, I'll allow it, but I think you're wasting your time." She motioned toward the two security guards and they obediently filed out of the room. "I'm sorry about this, Jon. I didn't want to put you on the spot, but you might as well accept the fact that you're going to be called to testify at his court-martial. It's all going to come out." She tapped the padd against her hand a couple of times. "Do what you can to make him see reason. If he pleads guilty now, it's possible that we can keep this from becoming a media circus like the Paxton trial. There's a lot at stake here. Not just for Earth, but for this entire sector."

Tensing, Archer replied, "I don't need you to tell me what's at stake."

"No, of course not. I'll be right outside. We'll touch base when you're finished."

"What Trip and I have to say to each other is not for…"

"I'll be outside," she replied firmly. "Be careful, Jon. Don't let him drag you down with him."

As soon as the door swished shut behind Sabatini, Archer realized that he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to give Trip a swift kick in the ass for not cooperating. Diplomatic relations between Earth and Vulcan were hanging by a thread. This situation had to be resolved and quickly.

But then again this was Trip. Jon just couldn't bring himself to believe that his friend, the man he loved like a brother, was capable of committing treason. And as for T'Pol – the loyal first officer who had given up so much to follow him into the Expanse – he would never believe that T'Pol was a Mata Hari.

Finally Trip broke the silence. "It sounds pretty damning once you hear it all laid out like that, doesn't it?" Head bowed, he was holding the padd Sabatini had given him. He looked to Archer like a man who, low on ammunition, knew the Indians were closing in and there was no cavalry patrol in sight.

"Yeah, it does."

Trip tossed the padd onto the table. "I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this."

"Don't worry about me. Right now you're the one everybody's gunning for." Archer walked over and sat down across from Trip. "Why don't you just tell them what they want to know? Commander Sabatini isn't your enemy. She's just trying to protect Starfleet and Earth."

"I know that." Trip nervously ran his fingers through his hair, a task made more challenging by the presence of the shackles. "I've given this a lot of thought. I'm just trying to do what's right."

"For whom?" Jon bristled. "For the Vulcans? When did you start putting their welfare over the welfare of your own people?"

"I'm not just doing this for the Vulcans." Trip's chin came up resolutely. Archer could practically see him preparing to dig in his heels. "I'm doing what has to be done to keep the Coalition from going under. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"And the only way you can do that is to pass classified information to the Vulcans."

"No!" Trip exclaimed. "I've never given them anything…not a single word. I'm no traitor. You have to believe me!"

"Why should I?" Archer hadn't intended to be so blunt, but he was hurt that Trip wouldn't open up to him. "When was the last time you were completely honest with me?" He pointed to the door. "I ran into Martin Granville downstairs. He says you're thinking about leaving Starfleet to go to work for him. Were you going to tell me about that or was I just going to get a transmission from Earth one day saying, 'Greetings from Indianapolis'?"

The color rose in Tucker's face. "I wanted to tell you, but you were busy and I was…" He flicked one hand angrily in the direction of the door. "…stuck in this damn embassy. If you want to know the truth, I've had quite a few offers. Starfleet sure as hell doesn't want me. Why shouldn't I be open to other possibilities? Sitting around all day with nothing to do but stare at four walls is not what I had in mind when I signed on."

Archer knew, of course, that Trip and T'Pol had desperately been trying to return to _Enterprise_. He'd intended to help them, but somehow time had gotten away from him. There was just too much to do. He should have… Now wait just a minute. Why should he feel guilty? He wasn't the one wearing a prison jumpsuit. Trip wasn't going to get off the hook by dumping the blame on him.

"All right, I'll admit that I should have gone to bat for you with Admiral Gardner, but this isn't the first time that you haven't been honest with me. When you got sick, you refused to confide in me, even when your depression began to affect your job performance. How do you think it makes me feel that you could talk to some Vulcan priest – a perfect stranger – but you couldn't talk to me?"

"I never meant to hurt you. It wasn't planned. Once we got to the Sanctuary, Soval suggested that Torok might be willing to…"

"Wait a minute." Archer wrinkled his brow in confusion. "You didn't know about this high priest before you went there?"

"No. I…" Trip's eyes suddenly widened and he snapped his mouth shut.

"So why'd you go to the Sanctuary in the first place?"

Trip ran his tongue nervously over his lips. It was obvious that he was desperately trying to come up with an answer.

"Why'd you go there?" Archer repeated impatiently.

Swallowing hard, Trip started to say something, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. Finally he mumbled, "Research."

"Not likely. What are you trying to hide?"

Trip bit down on his lower lip and shook his head. "I've got nothing to say."

"Bullshit!" Archer took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper under control. "All right, if you don't like that question, try this one on for size. What really happened on the _Tar'hana_? Two ships explode and all I ever got from you was the white-washed version straight from T'Pau and the High Council. Or maybe you can tell me why you were sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet with Minister Vaaris? If you weren't handing out classified information, what were you doing? And what the hell is going on with you and T'Pol? You two are always together. You don't even have time for a drink with me anymore."

Clearly distraught, Trip's only response was to bury his face in his hands.

Seeing his friend so upset, Archer, against his better judgment, began to weaken. "Trip, look at me." He leaned over and, taking a hold of Tucker's arm, gave it a reassuring squeeze. "If you'll just talk to me, I'll do everything I can to help you. We'll get through this together."

When he looked up, Trip's face crumpled in anguish. "Please don't ask me. I can't. I'm sorry, but…I can't."

"T'Pol isn't here to help you now. I am. You've trusted me with your life before; you can do it again."

"I gave my word."

"To whom?"

"I can't say. Please trust me just this once. I know what I'm doing. If I can just talk to Soval, I know I can …" Trip must have realized instantly that he'd made a mistake because he began to falter. "…get things …straightened…out. Cap'n?"

Suddenly feeling as cold as one of the Andorian ice caves, Archer jerked his hand away from Trip's arm. "Let me get this straight," he hissed. "You can talk to Soval, but you can't talk to me. Is that right?"

"You don't understand!"

"No, I don't. What about your oath to Starfleet? What about your obligation to Earth?"

"I'm doing this for Earth. This isn't what I wanted, but now I've got to play the hand I've been dealt. I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Archer snapped as he got to his feet.

"I've never lied to you," Trip exclaimed plaintively.

"Don't give me that! When was the last time you were completely honest with me? I thought we were supposed to be friends, damn it!"

"We are."

"If this is what you call friendship I don't want any part of it. I've had it up to here with your secrets." Jon made a slashing motion across his throat. "I'm sick of having to bail you out of trouble. If you're hell-bent on throwing away your career, I'm not going to stand in your way."

Under a full head of steam, Archer started for the door, but Trip's voice stopped him before he could open it. "Cap'n! I didn't give that information to the Vulcans. You've gotta believe me. I don't know how they got it."

"And the two data disks that supposedly contained the Romulans' plans – where did they come from?"

"From the Vulcans."

"And where did they get them?"

"I…" Trip shook his head, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can't tell you."

Gritting his teeth, Archer turned toward the door. He'd had enough. "This is the end of the line for us, Commander," he said in a strained voice. "I've tried my best, but you refuse to even meet me halfway. I won't work with people who aren't honest with me, and I sure as hell don't want them for a friend.

"If by some stroke of luck you manage to wiggle out of this mess, don't come looking for me; there's no place on _Enterprise_ for you. I doubt that any other Starfleet captain will want you, either. Maybe if you play your cards right, your buddy Granville will still be willing to give you a job." Archer slammed his hand against the door panel and when the door slid open, he stalked out.

Admiral Gardner and Commander Sabatini were waiting in the corridor for him. Angry and upset, he knew that talking to them was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was trapped.

"Judging by the look on your face," Lucy observed, "I'm going to guess that you didn't have any more luck than I did."

When Archer shook his head, Gardner patted him sympathetically on the back. "I'm sure you did everything you could, Jon. We'll hold off for another 24 hours to see if he comes around. After that…" He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid we'll have no choice but to set a date for his court-martial."

"The sooner the better," Lucy added. "The media vultures are already starting to circle. They know something's up."

"When this news hits Earth," the admiral said grimly, "it's going to set off a tidal wave of anti-Vulcan sentiment. We're going to be hard-pressed to keep the United Earth government from pulling out of the Coalition."

Gardner turned to Lucy Sabatini. "Commander, I want you to work with Starfleet Security. Make sure the Tucker family is taken into protective custody before news of the court-martial is made public. That family is going to have enough to deal with without bomb threats, hate mail, and a mob of reporters camping out on their front lawn."

Lucy nodded. "I'll take care of it, sir. I think you're right. Things are going to get very ugly before this is over."

"Schedule a date for the Article 32 hearing. Make it soon; let's not drag this out. By the way, I know Captain Stoyakovich is coming over to serve as military judge, but who's going to be defending Tucker?"

"Lieutenant Commander Alistair Halsworthy."

"I don't know him. Is he any good?"

"Yes, sir. Very good. He came in on the _Shenandoah_ with me last night. He's already spoken to Commander Tucker. I'm afraid it wasn't a very productive meeting."

"That doesn't come as a big surprise. I want to meet Commander Halsworthy. Why don't the two of you plan to have dinner with Admiral Uhlani and me this evening?" He placed a hand on Archer's shoulder. "Care to join us, Jon? You look like you could use a little casual conversation, a thick porterhouse steak with all the trimmings, and a good, stiff belt of whiskey."

Archer shook his head wearily. "If you don't mind, sir, I'll take a rain check. I should get back to _Enterprise_."

"All right, but I'm going to hold you to that rain check."

"Admiral."

Archer couldn't help grimacing. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Troeger. At least this time she wasn't after him.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Arms folded, Gardner waited patiently as Greta hurried over to him.

"Ambassador V'Lar is down at the reception desk. She wants to speak with you." When she'd finished delivering the message, Troeger shot a scathing glance in Archer's direction. Evidently she wasn't one to forgive and forget.

"Is she here about Commander Tucker?"

"No, sir. The guard on duty at the desk said something about an invitation."

Gardner sighed and pressed one hand against his temple. "Okay, I'll see her. Have someone escort the ambassador to my office."

"Aye, sir."

"Oh, and have we heard anything more from _Columbia_?"

"Not since Captain Hernandez's last transmission about three hours ago."

"Very good, Lieutenant. See to the ambassador. I'll be right with her."

Troeger gave the admiral a brisk nod and, turning on her heel, headed back the way she came.

"Is there a problem with _Columbia_?" Jon asked, keeping his voice level. He wasn't sure that he could handle another friend in trouble right now.

"No, but something appears to be brewing on Andoria. Over the past week, the Imperial Guard has been very active – lots of comings and goings."

"And the talks with the Andorians?"

"Hernandez doesn't hold out much hope that we'll be able to come to any kind of agreement with the Andorian government. They're demanding that Earth sever all ties with the Vulcans before they'll entertain the idea of improving diplomatic and trade relations with us."

Commander Sabatini focused her attention on the floor as she ran the toe of one boot back and forth over the tile. "Depending on how this business with Tucker plays out, that might not be as far-fetched as it sounds. Earth has just about had it with the Vulcans. If strengthening our ties with the Andorians could keep us from getting dragged into another war, I'm willing to bet that there will be a for sale sign on the Vulcan Compound in short order."

"Let's hope that isn't necessary." Gardner motioned toward one of the guards outside the interrogation room door. "After we've gone, take Commander Tucker back to his cell."

The guard snapped to attention. "Aye, sir."

"Now if you'll excuse me, Ambassador V'Lar is waiting."

Lucy waited until the admiral was gone before saying, "I'm sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances, Jon."

"Yeah." Archer ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying in vain to relieve the tension in his muscles.

"This must be very difficult for you. The admiral told me that you and Tucker are close."

"We were."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She took his arm and the two of them started to walk down the corridor toward the lift. "Good friends are a rare enough commodity these days. Try not to worry. We haven't closed the investigation yet. If he's innocent, we'll find the proof."

When they reached the lift, Lucy leaned over and kissed Jon on the cheek. "I'll leave you here. I have some work to do on the case. Let me buy you lunch tomorrow. It would give us a chance to talk over happier times."

Smiling weakly, Jon said, "Tomorrow is fine, but lunch is on me. I'll send a shuttle for you at 1300. I always enjoy showing off Enterprise."

"It's a date. See you tomorrow, Captain."

When he was finally alone, Archer headed straight for the embassy's landing platform, taking care to avoid the lobby or any public areas where the woman from the news agency or any of her colleagues might be lurking. Travis was waiting for him and in a matter of minutes Shuttlepod One was on its way back to _Enterprise_.

As he gazed out the viewport, Archer couldn't get the desperate, pleading look on Trip's face out of his mind. He knew he'd done the right thing, the only thing he could have done under the circumstances. He had to be able trust the people who served under him and Trip no longer measured up. Damn! Why did this have to happen?

If given a choice, Jon knew he'd give the order to break orbit as soon as he got back on board. He wanted nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between himself and this cursed planet. It wasn't enough that the Vulcans had kept his father from realizing his dream. Now they were not only sabotaging the Coalition he'd worked so hard to form, but also orchestrating the destruction of his best friend.

Unfortunately, duty demanded that he once again put his personal feelings aside. He'd stay here, put on a brave face, and continue on as though nothing was wrong. His work would not suffer. He would not allow his anger and despair to affect his dealings with his crew. He would attend the court-martial and testify truthfully and without reservation. And when it was all over – when Trip was locked away in prison for the rest of his life – no one would ever know just how truly heartbroken he was.

Before _Enterprise_ left space dock for the first time, people had warned him that it was a mistake to get too close to members of his crew. Friendships wouldn't last, they'd said. But in those heady days that had seemed laughable. He knew that he and Trip would be the exception; their friendship would stand the test of time. Trip was his brother in all but blood. Now it appeared as though the joke was on him.

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

"**THE BRIAR PATCH"**

**By Dinah**

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

**Genre:** Drama/Adventure/Angst/A sprinkling of lust and love, Trip/T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

**Author's note:** I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Thank you for your reviews; I really appreciate it. I also want to thank the following people: Blacknblue and Rigil Kent for their invaluable assistance in figuring out the techie side of things; BnB again being a marvelous beta and saving me from taking some very wrong turns; and SavanaSahara, Asso, WarpGirl, and others who kept me writing when I was more than ready to quit.

CHAPTER 7: OSAMU TAMURA

Osamu Tamura filled his small watering can and returned to the table which held his botanical treasures. There was something eminently satisfying about gardening: the feel of the soil beneath your fingers, the rich smell of fertile earth, the deep connection to nature which spanned the ages, creating a bridge of common experiences between revered ancestors and their descendants. How could one ever tire of the sheer joy that came from creating and sustaining new life?

When he took up residence on the _Warsaw_ for the first time almost five years ago, he'd asked the engineers to cut a door in the bulkhead between two cabins. The extra cabin now served as his office, while the bathroom was refitted as a greenhouse of sorts. With its indoor plant lighting and carefully controlled temperature and humidity, this small room was now home to over a dozen different species of plants.

Pride of place, however, went to three carefully cultivated bonsai trees. His father had planted a Chinese elm, a ficus, and a brush cherry on the day of Osamu's birth, sixty-two years ago. They symbolized a father's wish for health, wealth and long life for his first-born child. On Osamu's eighth birthday his father took him aside and began instructing him in the special skills required to care for his trees: the pruning, the replanting, the watering, the feeding. As the boy learned to shape the branches, bending them to his will, so, too, life was shaping the boy into a man.

Quiet and reserved by nature, Osamu had spent much of his youth living in the shadow of his outgoing younger brother, Shoji. Cursed with a brilliant mind but a nondescript face and manner, he could stand in the center of the room and remain virtually unnoticed while his brother, standing off in a corner, effortlessly drew others to him in droves. Time and again Osamu's teachers passed over him in favor of less deserving students. Girls ignored him. His coaches appeared to be oblivious to the boy seated alone and forgotten on the bench. Even people he'd known for years seemed to find it necessary to search their memories before greeting him.

Finally, after fifteen years of prodding and heart-felt words of encouragement, his parents seemed to give up the fight. Osamu, they decided, would always be a non-entity while Shoji, the shining star in their lives, would do honor to their ancestors. Osamu was deeply hurt by the change in his parents' attitude towards him, but he never allowed anyone to see his pain, especially Shoji, who still lovingly looked up to his smarter, less personable older brother. Determined to regain his stature in his parents' eyes, Osamu promised himself that someday he would find a way to succeed.

With that pledge foremost in his mind, he accepted an entry-level position in the cryptographic branch of the United Earth Space Probe Agency soon after his graduation from Kyushu University. He quickly discovered that he enjoyed the quiet, cerebral nature of his job, but it wasn't long, before his supervisor, a cantankerous but very astute woman, took note of his ability to blend in. Her report set the wheels in motion and, before Osamu fully understood what was happening, he found himself in training to become a field agent.

Slowly, with each small success, he began to realize that his ability to blend in was a tool to be used to his advantage, not the measure of who he was as a man. He developed an interest in martial arts, honing his skills and his self-confidence in equal measure. Before long he discovered that, when necessary, he was now able to command the attention of others. It was a heady feeling.

Sadly, Shoji never lived long enough to fulfill his promise. In the winter of his twenty-sixth year he was killed in a skiing accident on Mount Yakebitai. Crushed by their grief, his parents turned to Osamu, and he gave them every ounce of his strength.

Unfortunately, because of the classified nature of his work, he could tell his parents very little about his new-found success. He ended up falling back on his all-too-familiar role of dull, dutiful son. In doing so, his opportunity to win them over came and went and little changed. To this day, his parents still clung to the faded memory of their golden child, Shoji. They never understood that their black sheep of a son had become a very powerful man: Vice Admiral Osamu Tamura, Chief of Starfleet Intelligence.

Setting his watering can aside, Tamura carefully plucked a dead blossom from a pink and white African violet, a plant which had always been one of his mother's personal favorites. That reminded him, her birthday was next week. He must remember to call her. She hadn't been well lately. Perhaps sometime soon he could find time in his busy schedule for a trip to Nagaoka. She would like that.

The door chime sounded, bringing an end to his cherished time with his plants. After saying a few words of good-bye, he carefully closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk. When he was seated comfortably, he said, "Come."

The door slid open and Gannet Brooks entered. After taking several steps into the room, she turned to face his desk and stood at attention.

Tamura motioned for her to stand at ease. "Did you bring Lieutenant Reed?"

"Yes, sir. He's waiting outside."

"Good."

"He wasn't happy about being pulled away from his work."

"I would expect nothing less. It takes time to make a thorough search of _Enterprise_." Tamura leaned forward slightly and folded his hands on the desk. "Every instinct tells me there is something they've overlooked."

"Something that will prove Commander Tucker is innocent?"

"Not necessarily."

A brief look of dismay passed over Gannet's face, but she quickly covered her lapse. "I was…just thinking of the potential damage to our warp program if the commander is found guilty."

"Determining one man's guilt or innocence is the responsibility of the Judge Advocate General's Corps. We must concern ourselves with the bigger picture. Our ultimate goal is now and always will be the security of Earth. Everything else must, of necessity, be a means to an end." When he saw the corners of her lips turn up slightly, he added, "I know you've heard that before, but it bears repeating."

"Aye, sir."

"This spy ring must be destroyed quickly and completely. If Tucker is guilty, we cannot give his accomplices the time they need to reorganize."

"And what if he's telling the truth? What if he isn't involved?"

"Then heaven help us." Tamura pursed his lips as a flood of possibilities once again coursed through his mind. "If our enemies can gain access to _Enterprise_, the pride of Starfleet, and frame Commander Tucker, then who among us is safe? We know that the information which has been leaked so far has come from a number of classified sources. If Tucker isn't the spy, then who is? How many people are involved? How deep does it go? Are the spies only acting out of loyalty to Vulcan or do they pose an even greater threat." Taking a deep breath, he paused a moment to collect his thoughts. "If Tucker is being framed, we can only hope that his arrest will convince those responsible that they've accomplished their goal and the flow of information to Vulcan will stop, at least temporarily. It may buy us a little time to plug a few of the worst breaches in our security. But mark my works, before this is over we're going to be forced to rebuild our entire security network from the ground up, and I'm afraid we're going to be given very little time."

When he grew silent, Brooks stepped forward and placed a padd on his desk. "This just came in. Captain Jespersen thought you'd want to see it right away."

Quickly focusing his attention on the matter before him, Tamura pulled the padd closer and skimmed the contents. "Has this been confirmed?"

"Yes."

The admiral's face registered his disapproval. "I see Commander Kelby has disgraced himself once again: stabbed in a drunken brawl outside a bar."

"Evidently, his wounds weren't life threatening, but the doctors want to keep him for a couple of days to be sure there are no complications."

"I want thorough background checks run on everyone who was involved in the fight."

"Starfleet Security has already started…"

"I said thorough. My father taught me that if you want something done right, you should do it yourself. That's sound advice."

"Yes, sir."

"It's possible that this stabbing was an accident," the admiral continued, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, "but the timing is suspect. The growing power of the Peace Forever Movement is driving many members of Terra Prime underground. We know that Kelby talks too much when he's drunk; it stands to reason that Paxton's followers probably do, too. If we can put the knife in their hands, I think it will give us some leverage with Kelby. I want to see any information related to the fight as soon as it comes in."

"I'll inform the communications officer."

"I also want guards on Kelby's hospital room around the clock – our people, not Starfleet Security. No one gets in to see him without our approval; that includes the doctors and nurses."

"They won't like that."

"It can't be helped. Right now it's our job to keep him alive. As soon as he's released, I want him taken into protective custody and held incommunicado. Oh, and be sure that our people are instructed to treat him like a guest, not a prisoner. If we can convince him that Terra Prime was behind the attack on him and we're only trying to protect him, I'm fairly certain he'll tell us everything he knows. Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir. I'll see that your orders are transmitted to Earth right away. Is there anything else?"

"On your way out, send in Lieutenant Reed."

"Aye, sir."

With their conversation at an end, Tamura took a second look at the information on the padd. Regardless of the outcome of their interrogation of Commander Kelby, it was obvious that he wouldn't be returning to his job in research and development; he could no longer be trusted. His dismissal from Starfleet would no doubt be hard on him, serving only to provide additional fuel for his growing persecution complex, but this time he had no one to blame but himself. It was never pleasant when someone had to be used and then discarded like day-old garbage, but sometimes it was necessary. One must always stay focused on the ultimate goal.

When Tamura looked up, Lieutenant Reed was standing at attention in the exact spot Gannet Brooks had just vacated. For one brief moment, the admiral felt an almost irresistible urge to peer over his desk to see if a large X had been placed on the grey tile floor without his knowledge.

From the scowl on Reed's face, it was apparent that he was far from pleased to have been summoned. That was unfortunate but of little consequence.

"Is this your first visit to the _Warsaw_, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." Seemingly against his will, Reed's eyes flitted around the admiral's office. "Frankly from the rumors I've heard over the years, I expected more."

"You of all people should know that things are seldom what they appear to be."

To the casual observer, the _Warsaw_ appeared to be just another Sarajevo-class cruiser. She was, in fact, a home away from home for Starfleet Intelligence. Powered by the same warp 5 engine used on _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_, the lack of twin nacelles limited _Warsaw_ to a top speed of warp 3.9, but the extra gigajoules of power allowed her to carry almost the same weapons array as the NX-class ships, with more than enough left over to support Admiral Tamura's pet research projects.

"I'm needed back on _Enterprise_, sir. May I ask why I was summoned?"

"Stand at ease." While Reed complied, Tamura sat back in his chair and, placing his hands on his midsection, steepled his fingers. "You contacted Harris yesterday." The admiral watched with interest as Reed's eyes widened. "Why are you surprised? Surely you know that Harris works for me."

"Well, I…"

"Let me guess. Harris gave you the impression that he was in complete control, didn't he?"

"Yes."

Tamura sighed. Some things never changed. "As a rule, I allow Harris to operate independently, but sometimes he forgets that there are limits. When that happens, I'm forced to shorten his leash. It's tiresome, but necessary. The role he plays – overseeing those missions in which Starfleet must be able to claim deniability – is critical to the security of Earth, but he is not indispensable. If the day comes when he fails to remember that he is answerable to me and to the people of Earth, he knows that I will remove him."

"I see." Reed still didn't sound convinced. "What about Gannet Brooks? Did you send her to see Captain Archer?"

"Of course."

"Why go to that trouble? The message could have been sent to the captain on a secure channel."

"I wanted Lieutenant Brooks to gauge Archer's response and report back to me."

"You wanted to be sure he'd follow up."

"Yes. I also want to understand how his mind works…how he processes information."

Reed opened his mouth to say something, but wisely closed it again.

"Now that we have that out of the way, I want to know what your search of _Enterprise_ has uncovered."

Reed ran his tongue over his bottom lip. It was the only hint that there was something going on beneath his cool demeanor. "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I haven't had a chance to brief Captain Archer yet. I think it would be best if I reported to him first. He is my commanding officer."

"I am aware of your past problems with Archer. Harris' handling of the Klingon plague situation was clumsy at best. It would have been preferable if your past activities with covert operations had not been revealed, but what's done is done. If it will ease your mind, I promise to personally speak to Captain Archer if he takes exception to your visit here today. Will that suffice?"

Reed hesitated and then gave his head a brisk nod.

"Now the sooner you get on with it, the sooner you'll be on your way. Tell me what you've discovered."

Hands clenched behind his back, Reed lifted his chin and reported: "You've seen the evidence against Commander Tucker?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that Lieutenant Sato found a file buried in the server which automatically piggybacked intelligence information onto any messages Commander Tucker sent off ship from the terminal in his quarters." Tamura nodded. "The classified information was routed to a remote site in the general vicinity of the L-langon Mountains."

"Now tell me what I don't know."

"Once we discovered that Commander Kelby might be involved, we searched his quarters twice – tore the room apart actually. We finally discovered a carefully concealed false bottom inside the access panel located directly below the viewport. Inside were four data disks…"

"…containing the stolen intelligence information?"

"Yes. Commander Tucker's fingerprints were on the disks."

"But not Kelby's?"

"No."

"Interesting." Tamura slowly rubbed his left temple as he pondered this new revelation. "Kelby could have found the disks and hidden them away with the intention of using them against Tucker at some future time. Or the two of them could be in this together."

"Either way, you're assuming Commander Tucker is guilty."

"His fingerprints are on the disks. That would seem to imply that he at least knew of their existence."

"Fingerprints can be transferred. I've done it before. Undoubtedly so have you. From the moment Commander Tucker returned from _Columbia_, Kelby resented him. He couldn't best Trip, so he decided to ruin his career."

"If that's the case, then why hide the disks? All Kelby had to do was plant them in a place he knew you'd search: engineering or Tucker's quarters. No, I think your judgment may be clouded by the fact that you want to believe that Commander Tucker is innocent."

Bristling, Reed stuck his chin out defiantly. "If Trip says he's not a spy then I believe him."

"You're a fool if you do. Find the proof of his innocence. Then your faith in your friend will be justified."

"Given a little more time, that's exactly what I intend to do. The fact still remains that those disks were found in Kelby's room, not Trip's. Kelby has known ties to Terra Prime and he hated Trip. He would…" Reed suddenly hesitated as though a thought had just occurred to him, and he clamped his mouth shut. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but it was too little too late. The cat was out of the bag.

"Let's have the rest of it," Tamura sighed wearily. "There's obviously more."

Reed stubbornly pressed his lips together. At first Tamura thought that he would have to press the point, but he soon began to see traces of resignation in Reed's eyes and knew that the truth would be forthcoming. Apparently the lieutenant's sense of duty still prevented him from telling an admiral to go to hell. That was for the best. Tamura's plans for him did not include a charge of insubordination and wasted days spent sulking in the brig.

Shifting his weight nervously, Reed broke eye contact with the admiral and focused his attention on a point above and beyond Tamura's head. "One of the disks contained the preliminary plans for Deep Space One. It hasn't been confirmed yet, but…" Reed swallowed hard, his jaw muscles tensed. "…there's a possibility that a few of the details shown on those plans were added after Kelby transferred off _Enterprise_."

"After he left…" Tamura pursed his lips in thought. "That means that either Commander Tucker is guilty as charged or you have another agent on board, someone who was working with Kelby."

For once the admiral was almost sorry he wasn't back on Earth. Kelby's interrogation was undoubtedly going to prove very interesting.

"I know it looks bad, but you have to believe me: Trip didn't do this."

"Assuming for a moment that you're right, do you have any idea who the other agent or agents might be? There could be more than one, you know."

"No." Reed grimaced slightly. "That's the problem. We've been so careful. I don't see how it's possible."

"You're only thinking in terms of Terra Prime. Expand your focus."

Cocking his head to one side, Reed looked questioningly at the admiral. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. Are you saying that Terra Prime isn't responsible for…"

Tamura waved one hand impatiently. "Of course, Terra Prime is involved. But with or without Paxton those people have never been more than second-rate thugs. This plot to frame Tucker – if that is in fact what we're dealing with here – is far too sophisticated for Terra Prime. There is something far bigger and far more dangerous at work here."

"Bigger than Terra Prime? But who…"

"I don't know. That's why I sent for you. I need information. You haven't given me much, but it's better than nothing."

"Actually, sir…there is something else."

"Continue."

"During our search, we found another file buried in the computer. This one was designed strictly to monitor incoming and outgoing transmissions from _Enterprise_."

"That sounds more like the work of Terra Prime. Kelby again, no doubt."

"I don't think so. Lieutenant Sato is sure that the file was Vulcan."

"Vulcan." That got Tamura's attention, and he sat forward, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "Commander T'Pol, do you think? Trying to keep her people informed on what we were doing."

"That doesn't sound like something the commander would do. To my knowledge, she's never given Captain Archer any cause to doubt her loyalty."

Tamura was well aware of T'Pol's background. He found it hard to believe that anyone trained by the Vulcan Ministry of Security could be considered trustworthy. She was certainly capable of planting the file in question to provide her people with a constant stream of intelligence information. Reed's confidence in _Enterprise_'s first officer was admirable, but more than a little naïve. "If not T'Pol, then who? Captain V'Lin?"

"It wasn't V'Lin. He was never out of our sight. Besides, the file was planted long before the joint maneuvers."

"Then it has to be Soval. Commander Tucker undoubtedly gave him the run of the ship."

"Well…yes. The ambassador was free to come and go as he liked. And the timing is right."

"But?"

"But I don't believe Soval would do something like this."

Tamura was less than pleased. "Unless a steady stream of Vulcans has been trooping aboard _Enterprise_, our choices are becoming somewhat limited."

"Administrator V'Las and Chief Investigator Stel attended a meeting on Enterprise right after the embassy bombing."

"Did you allow them to roam about unattended, too?"

Reed stiffened at the implication that he had been remiss in his duties. "I made sure the Administrator and his party were closely guarded from the moment they came on board. It couldn't have been them."

"By process of elimination that means we must focus our attention on Commander T'Pol and Ambassador Soval. Do you agree, Lieutenant?"

The muscles in Reed's jaw clenched again. Obviously displeased, he gave the admiral a curt nod of the head.

Tamura got to his feet and walked around his desk. "Come with me. I'll walk you to the launch bay. There's something I want to show you on the way."

Once they were out in the corridor, Reed seemed to relax a little. "I must admit that when Lieutenant Brooks told me that you wanted to see me, I was hoping to get a tour of _Warsaw_. So far it looks pretty much like every other Sarajevo-class cruiser."

"You've heard rumors?"

"Quite a few, actually. I've heard it likened to everything from a sophisticated spy ship to a planet-hopping red herring designed to draw attention away from our real intelligence objectives to a present day Flying Dutchman aimlessly wandering through space."

Just before they reached the turbolift, Tamura stopped in front of a hatch labeled Cargo Bay 4. "That is most interesting." He passed his hand over the right side of the door frame and a security panel appeared. After pressing his right palm against the scanner, he leaned over so that a beam could scan his retinas. He then entered a 12-digit code number. The randomly selected number had to be committed to memory each morning. Fortunately that didn't pose a problem for Osamu; with training, his memory was sharper now than it had been when he was a young man.

When the last digit was entered, the door slid open and he heard to soft gasp from Reed. Glancing to his left, he watched with interest as the lieutenant's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Is this more in line with what you hoped to see?"

After Reed managed a whispered, "Yes," the two men entered the state-of-the-art laboratory. The large cargo bay was interspersed with a dozen eight-foot stainless steel tables which could be moved around and bolted to the floor in an endless number of configurations. Off to the left, electricity crackled from an experiment presently being monitored by two intent crewmen. The smell of ozone permeated the air despite the best efforts of the ventilation system. At the far end of the room, an officer was working on a large section of a phase cannon, which was suspended from the ceiling by a block and tackle. Four other officers were scattered around the room, each at work on a different project.

"This is one of three laboratories on _Warsaw_. Our scientists and engineers are constantly working on improvements to weapons, communications, surveillance equipment, etc., all far more advanced than anything Starfleet is currently pursuing. The research going on in this particular lab is all related to pet projects of mine. That's why my office is located close by." Tamura fixed Reed with a steely gaze. "Needless to say, everything you see here is top secret."

"Understood, sir. This is…incredible."

"I thought you'd like it." Tamura motioned toward the center of the room. "Feel free to look around."

Smiling, Reed began to wander from table to table, all thoughts of _Enterprise_ momentarily forgotten. He stopped and asked questions, peered over shoulders at data-filled padds, and showed a particular interest in the proposed modifications to the phase cannon.

Realizing that time was running short, Tamura walked over to the young lieutenant and pointed off to the right. "There's something over here I'd like you to see." Without waiting for a response, he led the way to two four-foot-high poles embedded in a track on the deck. At present, the poles were set three and a half feet apart, but the distance between them could be adjusted, depending on the requirements for a specific experiment.

As expected, Reed took one look at the poles and exclaimed, "You're doing force field experiments. That's something I've been tinkering with for quite some time now."

"I know. I've read your reports with great interest."

Tamura clapped his hand on the shoulder of the stocky, middle-aged officer who was standing next to a control panel just to the right of one of the poles. "This is Commander Dockerage. He's working on a theory that force field technology can someday be used to protect our ships. Polarized hull plating may be adequate protection for our ships now, but it won't be for long. Every alien power out there – friend or foe – has faster, better starships than we do. If we want to survive, we're going to have to find ways to level the playing field."

Tamura stepped back to give Reed and Dockerage a chance to talk for a few minutes. Judging by the gleam in Reed's eyes and the ease with which he chatted with the scientists and technicians, the lieutenant felt right at home. Maybe this wasn't such a long shot after all.

A quick check of the chronometer on the wall told Tamura that it was time to go. He motioned to Reed who gave a quick wave of acknowledgement and quickly brought his conversation with Commander Dockerage to an end.

As the two men headed back toward the hatch Reed said, "Thank you for the tour of the lab, Admiral. I enjoyed it."

"I thought you might. But it wasn't just hospitality on my part. I wanted to see if you'd fit in."

"Fit in?" Perplexed, Reed furrowed his brow.

"Yes. I want you to come to work for me."

Reed's head spun around, and he came to an abrupt halt. "Excuse me?"

"You heard correctly. There's important work to be done here and I think you can be of help."

As the two men left the laboratory and entered the turbolift, Reed clasped his hands together and nervously rubbed his knuckles with his right thumb. "But I'm already doing important work…on _Enterprise_."

"_Enterprise_ is only one ship. The job I have in mind for you can benefit everyone in Starfleet, perhaps everyone on Earth."

Reed smiled tightly. "I must admit you've piqued my curiosity, sir. Just for the sake of argument, why don't you tell me what you have in mind?"

The turbolift doors opened and the admiral headed for the launch bay. He knew that Lieutenant Brooks would be there waiting for him.

"As you know, we first became aware of the potential threat posed by the Romulans when one of their mines exploded, damaging your ship."

Grimacing, Reed replied, "That's one event I'm not likely to forget."

"Our efforts to gather intelligence on the Romulans have so far met with little success. Because you have the first-hand experience we need as well as a background in covert operations, I want you to take over the Romulan Bureau and whip it into shape."

Tamura watched with interest as Reed's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally managed to get out, "I've very flattered, sir, but surely there are others who are better suited for the job."

"Clean the wax out of your ears, Lieutenant. I just finished telling you that no one in or out of Starfleet has the unique qualifications which you possess. I'm giving you the opportunity to save lives. You want to help us defeat the Romulans, don't you?"

"Do you really think it will come to that? War, I mean?"

"Yes. And if you're honest with yourself, so do you. The Romulans want to control this quadrant, and they're prepared to do whatever's necessary to make that happen. If you want proof, you don't have to look any farther than their treaty with the Andorians. Right now the Coalition is the only thing that's preventing them from moving against us. But if this business with Tucker causes a permanent rift with the Vulcan Government, the Coalition is finished. Once we're seen as vulnerable, the Romulans will attack. My guess is we'll probably be in a shooting war before the year is out."

"And if we can hold the Coalition together?"

"It will buy us a little more time." Almond-shaped eyes looked appraisingly at Reed. "It will give you a chance to get things organized. We desperately need information. Right now the Romulans hold all the cards."

As soon as Tamura and Reed entered the launch bay, Lieutenant Brooks gave the admiral a quick wave and crawled into one of the shuttlepods.

"I'd like some time to think this over, sir. It's not a decision I can make without careful consideration."

"I'll give you four days. By rights, I should make the deadline tomorrow, but I know there are other things weighing on your mind. Just remember that every day we delay, the Romulans are gaining ground on us."

"Understood. You'll be hearing from me."

Tamura felt that that had gone about as well as could be expected. He had to trust that Reed would make the right decision for the safety and security of Earth.

When Reed reached the shuttlepod, he pulled up to say good-bye to the admiral, but Tamura continued on past him and entered the shuttlepod. As soon as Reed was seated across from the admiral, Lieutenant Brooks received clearance and launched.

In answer to Reed's questioning look, Tamura said, "Ambassador Soval has requested a briefing before he returns to Earth. Apparently he wants as much information as possible about the problems we're having with Terra Prime and the Peace Forever Movement. Admiral Gardner asked me to attend."

Tamura had tried his best to get out of the briefing, but Gardner had insisted. After years as an agent, moving from city to city, country to country, planet to planet, Tamura had reached a point where he hated to leave _Warsaw _for even brief periods of time. This was now his home. The only exception was the occasional visit to Nagaoka to visit his parents.

"Lieutenant Brooks will drop you off at _Enterprise_ and then continue on to our embassy. Do you have any questions, Mr. Reed?"

"No, sir." Reed hesitated. "Well…perhaps one."

"Yes?"

Glancing uneasily in Brooks' direction, Reed lowered his voice. "If I take the position, will I be returning to Earth?"

"For the first few months, you'd be working from _Warsaw_. After that you'd be free to travel wherever the job takes you."

"Do you think I could give Commander Dockerage a hand with his force field experiments…in my free time, of course?"

Leaning back against the bulkhead, Tamura was careful to keep his expression neutral. "I think that might be arranged."

To be continued...


	12. Chapter 12

"**THE BRIAR PATCH"**

**By Dinah**

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

**Genre:** Drama/Adventure/Angst/Trip & T'Pol

Description: This story is a sequel to "The Thorn and the Rose."

**Author's note:** This should have been the second part of the previous chapter; that's why it is still from Tamura's point of view. Hopefully it will be begin to answer a few of your questions about T'Pol.

Thank you for all your reviews; they make all the hard work worthwhile. I would like to thank Blacknblue and Rigil Kent for their invaluable suggestions; they both know a lot about a whole lot of things. And a BIG thanks to BnB for being a marvelous beta and saving me from taking some very wrong turns.

CHAPTER 12: OSAMU TAMURA

"I really don't have time for sightseeing," Captain Jonathan Archer said tightly, as he glanced through a window and caught sight of the small Vulcan shuttle parked on the landing platform behind the United Earth Embassy. "Why aren't we meeting V'Lar and Soval here at our embassy as planned?"

"Soval is meditating at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya before he returns to Earth," Ambassador Etienne Belliveau explained, as he effortlessly shepherded Archer, Admiral Tamura and Admiral Gardner out the door and onto the landing platform. "When V'Lar contacted me early this morning, she suggested that we might like to meet there. The Sanctuary is, after all, one of Vulcan's cultural treasures. I saw no reason to deny her request."

"Cultural treasures are fine, but I wish we could have paid a visit some other time," Gardner said. "I have a lot on my schedule today." He pointed toward the Vulcan male standing patiently next to the open hatch of the shuttle. "Do you know the pilot, Osamu?"

"That is Lieutenant Komas, a member in good standing of the Ministry of Security. In the past, he's been known to run 'special' errands for Ambassador Soval. I rather expected that we'd be seeing him, once I heard about the change in plans."

"If we want to maintain our alliance with the Vulcans," Belliveau stated in the calm, soothing voice he used with reporters, constituents, and very young children, "we may have to put forth a little extra effort. Ambassadors Soval and V'Lar are friends of Earth. We need their support in the High Council."

"I'm not sure even they have enough influence to sway the Council against the likes of Kiran, Sulin, and Herac," Archer countered.

Tamura took note of the tense set of Archer's shoulders, the tightness in his voice, and the constant clenching and unclenching of his right hand. Something was clearly bothering the captain. Tamura knew, of course, about Archer's unpleasant meeting yesterday with Commander Tucker. Perhaps that was it; perhaps it was something else altogether. Whatever the problem, Archer had better calm down. Given the current political situation, it was necessary to maintain the Vulcan alliance. A few wrong words said in anger and everything could blow up in their faces. Tamura thought that it would probably be best to leave him here, but that wasn't his call to make.

When the four men approached the shuttle, Komas motioned them inside and promptly closed the hatch. Tamura barely had time to take a seat before they were airborne. Climbing quickly, the shuttle banked to port and headed for Mount Seleya.

Several minutes into the flight, Admiral Gardner cast a worried glance at Archer, who was seated on the bench next to him, and asked, "Are you all right, Jon?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." When Gardner looked askance at him, Archer's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward slightly, grabbing the edge of the bench with both hands. "Okay, I didn't sleep very well last night. I'm just a little tired."

"I'm not surprised. After observing Tucker's interrogation yesterday, I had a little trouble getting to sleep myself." Gardner cast a wary glance at Komas and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "You did the best you could, Jon. If Tucker refuses to cooperate with us, he has no one to blame but himself."

"You don't understand. I said some things yesterday…things that I regret. I told Trip he could count on me, and then I turned my back on him and walked away. I tried to convince myself later that I'd only done it for his own good – somebody had to make him realize what he stands to lose – but..."

"But basically you just got pissed off and lost your temper."

"Yeah. I should have known better. That wasn't my first interrogation."

"Maybe not, but it always complicates matters when you're dealing with a friend."

"You can say that again."

Gardner reached over and put his hand on Archer's shoulder. "These things happen, Jon. At one time or other, we all say things in the heat of the moment that we wish we could take back."

"Trip isn't guilty." Archer shook his head. "I know he's not a traitor. The proof's out there somewhere. No matter how long it takes, I'm going to keep looking until I find it."

Tamura studied Archer carefully. He knew a great deal about the captain of _Enterprise_, but the two men hadn't met until today. Quite frankly, he wasn't impressed. He was having trouble reconciling the image of the iron-willed Hero of the Xindi War with the seemingly distraught man seated across from him. Given the number of times Archer was called upon to be the point person for Starfleet in negotiations with others species, it wouldn't do for him to appear to be in any way emotionally unstable.

The admiral made a mental note to review Archer's file in more depth when he returned to _Warsaw_. This was one situation which might bear watching.

"Believe me, Jon," Gardner said reassuringly, "Starfleet doesn't want to lose Tucker. He's the best engineer we've got, bar none. You have my word that we'll do everything humanly possible to get to the truth."

Nodding, Archer took a deep breath and sat up straight. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a padd. "I meant to give this to you before we left." He handed the padd to Gardner. "It's the final plans for the convoy system. I've scheduled a meeting with the Coridans, Tellarites and Rigelians tomorrow afternoon. I think the Denobulans are also interested in sending a representative. If everything goes as planned we should be able to get the first convoys underway by the end of the month."

"What about the Vulcans?" Belliveau asked.

"I notified every member of the High Council, but so far, nothing. I'm not going to hold my breath."

After taking a moment to look over the plan, Gardner asked, "What about the Boomers? Have you heard from the Earth Cargo Service?

"I've arranged for a comm link with Earth, but I think it's a waste of time. The ECS sees these attacks as strictly a Tellarite problem. So do the big cargo companies. Everybody's got a complaint. They don't want to change their routes. They're afraid their arrival or departure times might be altered. Some Boomers are vehemently opposed to using alien starships as escort vessels. Basically, they're just convinced that they can take care of themselves."

"Their lack of interest doesn't surprise me. The Boomers see themselves as rugged individualists. It's my guess they'll try to go it alone until the first ship is attacked, then they'll start screaming bloody murder."

"If and when that time comes, we won't have any problem integrating them into the convoy system."

"Good." Gardner scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Didn't you tell me that you met Martin Granville yesterday?"

Belliveau stuck out his hand and Gardner passed the padd across the aisle to him.

"Yes," Archer replied.

"Why don't you try appealing to him personally? If you can get the United Earth Cargo Corporation interested in your convoy system, the ECS may fall into line."

"That just might work." The upbeat words didn't match the scowl which slowly crept over Archer's face. "When we get back, I'll see if Granville will have dinner with me tonight. I'll lay everything out for him then."

"Let me know how things go. It would be just our luck to end up at war with the Romulans because the Boomers are too stubborn to accept the Coalition's protection. Nothing stirs up public sentiment like a few lost ships."

As soon as he was finished, Belliveau gave Tamura the padd. The admiral read Archer's report through twice, committing it to memory.

Now this Archer – the man who conceived of and developed this convoy system – was the man he'd expected to meet today. This was the man who'd won over the Xindi, turning enemies into allies. This was the man who was instrumental in holding the struggling Coalition together. Tamura frowned. This was also the man who needed some serious counseling in stress management before he came completely unglued.

Suddenly the part of Tamura's brain that was monitoring their flight alerted him that something was amiss. Leaning forward he looked out the viewports, first the front then both sides.

"Is something wrong, Osamu?" Gardner asked quietly.

"I don't believe we're headed for Mount Seleya."

Three heads turned in unison to face the front of the shuttle.

"Are you sure?" Archer asked tightly.

"Yes."

"So where are we?" Gardner murmured.

Before Tamura could answer, Komas said, "Admiral Tamura is correct." He swiveled in the pilot's seat, turning to face the four Humans. "Our destination has changed."

"Why?" Gardner made no effort to hide his displeasure.

"I am not at liberty to say."

"That's a load of…" Gardner pressed his lips together in a thin, rigid line. Given the length of the subsequent pause, he was probably counting to ten. "The least you can do," he finally said in a carefully controlled voice, "is tell us where we're going."

"For security purposes, the location must remain a secret."

"But we'll know our destination as soon as we land." Belliveau was obviously confused. "I don't see why…"

"Either tell us where we're going," Archer snapped, "or turn around and take us back to the embassy."

"Ambassador Soval believes this meeting is important. I was instructed to bring the four of you."

"This isn't the way we do business," Gardner said. "Soval knows that. I'm sure he didn't intend for you to keep us in the dark."

"We will land in seventeen minutes. I am sure Ambassador Soval will explain everything to your satisfaction upon your arrival."

Archer started to unzip his sleeve pocket but, Komas stopped him. "Your communicator will not work here, Captain."

When Archer started to protest, Tamura said, "Don't waste your breath. There's nothing you can say that will change his mind."

Given the determined look on Komas' face, Tamura knew it was pointless to argue with the lieutenant. He'd been assigned a task and he intended to complete it. Having read Komas' dossier, Tamura was willing to bet that, unlike Soval and V'Lar, this young Vulcan was simply incapable of ever adopting a less rigid way of thinking.

"My advice, gentlemen..." Tamura handed the padd back to Gardner. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Gardner stuffed the padd into a pocket and growled, "All I can say is that Soval's explanation had better be good." Having said his piece, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

When no further protests were forthcoming, Komas turned back to the helm console and an uneasy silence descended over the shuttle.

Fifteen minutes later the shuttle began its descent, and Tamura finally got a better look at the landscape. The desolate desert expanse with its widely scattered hills reminded him of Earth's Monument Valley. As they sped along, a large, reddish-brown butte off to the left caught his attention. He knew he'd seen it before, but he couldn't quite place it. Leaning forward, he looked out the viewports, surveying the surrounding countryside.

"Do you know where we are?" Gardner asked quietly.

Tamura shook his head. Just then the shuttle banked to the left, making a quick course correction. When the craft righted itself, the butte was directly in front of them. From this angle… He took another quick look around, orienting himself. From this angle it almost looked like… Then he caught sight of a small cluster of buildings on top of the butte and the last tumbler clicked into place.

"Interesting," he murmured under his breath as they prepared to land.

Komas set the shuttle down outside a high stone wall which surrounded the structures: a large single-story house and three smaller outbuildings. There was a wide metal gate at the front of the compound, which was, at present, being guarded by two heavily armed Vulcans dressed in the beige desert uniforms of the Ministry of Security.

Knowing the Ministry, if you saw two guards there were probably more carefully concealed. How many? Who were they protecting and why? Why bring four influential Humans to this isolated spot? The Vulcans had no reason to go to these extreme lengths if this was nothing more than a briefing for Soval. And why did they need the head of Starfleet Intelligence?

"Osamu?" This time there was a little more urgency in Gardner's voice.

When Belliveau shifted restlessly in the seat next to him, Tamura knew he had to say something. They'd find out soon enough anyway. "I believe this compound is owned by Administrator V'Las."

"V'Las? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Komas stared icily at the admiral and then walked over and opened the hatch.

The four Humans stepped out of the shuttle and took a look around. The top of the butte was decidedly uninviting, little more than five acres of barren, uneven rock. And it was surprisingly hot, far hotter than it had been in the city. When Tamura took a deep breath, trying to draw in enough oxygen, he felt as if a band was tightening around his chest. It would be best if they got out of the sun as soon as possible.

Gardner and Archer both looked uncomfortable, but the fair-skinned Belliveau, a man now completely out of his element, actually seemed a bit dazed by the heat. He started to unbutton his light grey suit coat but then appeared to think better of it. Evidently ambassadors had an image which must be maintained even under the worst conditions.

Without a word of explanation, Komas motioned toward one of the guards and then started forward as the gate slowly swung open. Gardner murmured, "Stay alert," to the others and warily followed the lieutenant. Thoughts of shade and a cool drink were very appealing, but Tamura couldn't help but wonder if they weren't walking straight into a hostage situation.

Once inside the walls, a wide path pointed the way to the main house thirty meters away. The house, solidly constructed of the same dark stone as the butte, had a flat tile roof with a gently curved overhang, which shaded windows and doors in the brutal heat. Tamura knew that each roof tile served as a small solar cell; together they would provide more than enough energy for the buildings in the compound – quite a bit more, in fact. That was curious. He made a mental note to try to get a look at whatever was inside the outbuildings, if the opportunity presented itself.

As they approached the house, the men passed by the remains of a carefully laid out garden. Withered stalks and leaves long dead from lack of water filled elongated ceramic planters. The planters – a few broken, most still intact – were set in channels, which wound around the front of the property. In sections where there were no planters, the channels were covered with slabs of stone. This obviously allowed the plants to be watered with a minimum of evaporation. The arrangement was both logical and ingenious. Unfortunately it was equally obvious that the water was no longer flowing. It had either been turned off or simply run out.

Quickly surveying the scene, Tamura noticed that detritus filled corners and crannies around the foundation, some of the roof tiles were cracked or broken, and a decorative ceramic pot, which once must have stood as tall as a man, now lay in pieces by the side of the house. Vulcans were too fastidious to tolerate these conditions. This place had obviously been abandoned. Perhaps the source of their water had dried up. That would make sense.

But that still didn't answer the questions foremost in Tamura's mind. Where was V'Las? And why had he dropped out of sight?

Two more Vulcan security officers flanked the heavily carved double doors at the front of the house. Komas gave them a curt nod before opening the door on the right for the Humans. After hesitating for only a split second, they entered, sighing quietly in unison as they were surrounded by cooler air once again.

Judging by the unprepossessing exterior of the house as seen on the surveillance pictures, Tamura had always assumed that this was V'Las' home away from home. Apparently he had been correct. The large room before them had a casual, comfortable feel to it – far different from the rigid formality of the Administrator's home in ShiKahr, which he had once visited. A large, low circular table anchored the center of the room. Four long, curved benches, each with a thick padded seat decorated with abstract motifs done in muted shades blue, green and brick red, surrounded the table. A few additional tables and chairs were scattered around the room, but they paled in comparison to the seven massive cabinets which were positioned at regular intervals around the four walls. Each cabinet contained a wide variety of items, all of which appeared to be Vulcan antiquities: ceramic pots in all shapes and sizes, weapons made of metal and stone, ornate jewelry, beautifully shaped pitchers and urns, plaques bearing archaic symbols, utilitarian household items, and even fragile bits of cloth.

Ambassador V'Lar and Commander T'Pol, both dressed in the traditional robes of their people, were waiting inside to greet them. Tamura noticed that Archer made no effort to hide his surprise at seeing T'Pol again. He started towards her, but Gardner immediately grabbed his arm.

"We'd like an explanation, Ambassador," Gardner snapped. "Are we guests or are we your prisoners?"

V'Lar raised her hand in the ta'al. "Peace and long life, gentlemen. I apologize if you felt threatened by our security measures. You are, of course, our guests."

"So why all the secrecy?"

"Everything will be explained in due time." She pointed towards the benches in the center of the room. "Please take a seat. After your journey, you will undoubtedly want some refreshments. As you can see, there is water, juice and tea as well as some fresh fruit on the table."

Without waiting for the others, Belliveau, now in full ambassadorial mode, smoothly returned the ta'al then escorted V'Lar to one of the benches and seated her. Gardner, at first, seemed a bit annoyed by the stately Belliveau's easy acceptance of their situation, but he quickly put aside any misgivings and followed the ambassadors into the room, signaling for Archer and Tamura to do the same.

T'Pol moved quietly from man to man, making sure they all had something to drink. Archer looked like he wanted to speak with her, but she moved on to the next man before he had the chance.

When everyone was comfortable, V'Lar said, "I regret any inconvenience you may have suffered. These steps were only taken to ensure your safety as well as ours."

Tamura watched as Komas took up a position at the entrance to the room. "Excuse me, Ambassador," he said quietly, "but this level of security is not needed for a simple briefing. Is there a problem? Has something happened to Ambassador Soval?"

"I appreciate your concern, Admiral, but Soval is well. He will be joining us momentarily. When he arrives we will try to explain things to your satisfaction."

Gardner leaned forward and placed his empty glass on the table. "Will Administrator V'Las be joining us, as well? This is his house, isn't it?"

V'Lar looked pointedly at Tamura before returning her attention to Gardner. "As you are no doubt aware, V'Las is no longer a member of our government. He would have no reason to be present today."

"That doesn't explain why we're in his house."

"If you would just be patient we will try…"

Before V'Lar could finish her thought, the front doors opened and three men entered. V'Lar and T'Pol immediately got to their feet.

"Thank you for coming, Ambassador Belliveau…Admiral Gardner…Admiral Tamura…Captain Archer." With a nod of the head, Soval acknowledged each man in turn. "Gentlemen, I believe you know Minister Vaaris. And this is Torok, High Priest of Vulcan."

Tamura rose and respectfully bowed in greeting. Torok returned the gesture and then proceeded to greet the other Humans as he moved slowly toward the bench farthest from the doorway.

Tamura wasn't sure if Archer, Gardner and Belliveau fully appreciated the honor that had just been bestowed on them, but he certainly did. To his knowledge, once Torok became High Priest, he had never left Mount Seleya. He didn't involve himself in the day-to-day running of the Vulcan government, and he certainly didn't sit down for a casual chat with Humans, no matter how highly placed they were. Something serious must have happened; it would take a crisis of major proportions for him to become personally involved.

When he was seated, Torok said, "You must have many questions. We regret that we were forced to resort to subterfuge, but you will soon understand why it was necessary."

"We don't mind common-sense security measures," Gardner said. "We do, however, object to constantly being kept in the dark." He jerked one thumb in Komas' direction. "Once we were in the shuttle, your lieutenant could have told us where we were going and why."

"You are correct, Admiral. Lieutenant Komas should have been more forthcoming. But in his defense, even he does not know the true purpose of this meeting."

"If this is an attempt to get Commander T'Pol off the hook, you might as well know right now that you're wasting your time." The admiral looked sternly at T'Pol, but she returned his gaze, seemingly unfazed. "She was answerable to us – and only to us – from the moment she joined Starfleet. As far as we're concerned, you're harboring a fugitive. We expect the commander to turn herself in and answer the charges against her."

"We hope that will not be necessary."

A grim smile crept over Gardner's face. "I'm sure you do. But as things now stand it would take a miracle to get her out of this mess."

"Perhaps a miracle is not as far-fetched as you might think, Admiral." Torok took a moment to rearrange the folds of his robes, seemingly oblivious to the skeptical looks passing from one Human to another. When the garment was arranged to his liking, he continued: "T'Pol has managed, with considerable effort, to convince the four of us that, in order to save Vulcan, we must take the unprecedented step of breaking with the High Council. She has forced us to acknowledge that we can no longer afford to hide the truth from our allies and expect them to support Vulcan in times of trouble. Vaaris has investigated each of you thoroughly. He believes that you can be trusted."

There was a moment of stunned silence then Gardner said, "I'm not quite sure I understand. You're telling us that you're willing to break with the High Council…because of T'Pol?"

"Because of the logical arguments she presented…yes. But you are mistaken if you think that T'Pol was acting out of self-interest. She has convinced us that it is Commander Tucker who must be saved."

"Tucker?"

Like sensors locking on a target, all eyes turned to T'Pol. She sat perfectly still: back straight, hands folded sedately in her lap, chin held high. Her face was expressionless, but Tamura – who was sitting closest to her – thought he detected a glimmer of something in her eyes. Perhaps it was pride…and rightly so. She had evidently just convinced four of the most important people on Vulcan to support a Human rather than their own governing body. He had obviously underestimated her abilities; he would not make that mistake again.

"With all due respect," Gardner said, "it seems evident that Commander Tucker is only important to you because he's provided a steady stream of intelligence information to the High Council. Our investigators have amassed a great deal of evidence linking him to your government."

"We do not need to obtain information in that way," Vaaris replied.

"I beg to differ. As you well know, when Vulcan failed to support Earth in the Xindi War, Starfleet began to systematically remove Vulcans from all our important projects. The United Earth government did much the same. Your people's influence on Earth is now a fraction of what it once was. The only way you can get up-to-date information on our ship deployments or classified projects is through illicit means."

"You are assuming that our interests have remained unchanged. Let me assure you, Admiral, that that is not the case. The Xindi conflict demonstrated that Humans are capable of handling their own affairs. Meanwhile, we have problems here at home which require our full attention."

Torok planted his sturdy cane firmly on the floor in front of him and tightened his grip on the knob. "We are not here to argue. Our only goal is to lay the facts before you so that you will have a better understanding of the current situation. If our actions today were made public, many of our people would undoubtedly brand us as traitors. We, however, believe that we are acting in the best interests of Vulcan. We can no longer continue to isolate ourselves and expect to survive. There is a storm coming, a storm that threatens all of us. If we do not band together, it will destroy everything that is good in your world and in ours."

"So how does Trip figure in all this?" Archer asked.

Torok nodded. "The Romulans have tried to kill Commander Tucker twice and failed. Now they are trying to discredit him. Why? Because they know that he could prove to be the single greatest obstacle to their dreams of conquest."

Tamura couldn't help but gape along with the other Humans. Attributing that level of importance to Tucker – even if he proved to be innocent of the charges again him – was absurd.

"But…Tucker is just an engineer," Gardner finally blurted out. "A damn good engineer – the best we have – but still…just an engineer. He's not an ambassador, a government official, an admiral, an industrialist…" His voice tailed off as he raised both hands entreatingly. "Why would he pose a threat to anybody…especially the Romulans?"

"It is easy to underestimate the commander," Torok said, "but that would be most unwise. History is often determined by seemingly average people who happen to be in the right place, at the right time, with the right set of skills to bring about change." He swept one hand in Archer's direction. "You believe that Captain Archer is such a man. Why, then, is it so difficult to accept that the same might also apply to Commander Tucker?"

"I see your point," Gardner began slowly. "But it's still hard to believe."

The high priest flicked a finger in T'Pol's direction and she set about filling in the blanks.

"It is common knowledge that Commander Tucker is a gifted engineer. When he was on the drone ship, he caught a glimpse of things the Romulans never expected an alien to see. He has also spent several hours with the _Tar'hana's _engines. Once he begins to process everything he has seen – and he will – he has the ability to take that information and use it to significantly advance Earth's warp program. It stands to reason that faster, stronger Starfleet ships do not figure in the Romulans' plans.

"In addition, the commander's growing influence with certain members of the Vulcan government poses a threat. Only a short time ago, the High Council was preparing to sever Vulcan's ties to the Coalition; Minister Herac had the necessary votes. Thanks to Mr. Tucker, Admiral Kiran changed his vote at the last minute, defeating the motion."

"Why would Kiran do that?" Gardner was clearly struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. "Was that Tucker's payment for passing along intelligence information? Is that how he's justifying all this to himself? He helped preserve the Coalition."

"You do Commander Tucker a disservice, Admiral," Vaaris said. "Kiran, no doubt, changed his vote because he owed the commander a debt of honor. During the joint maneuvers, Mr. Tucker detected a problem with the _Tar'hana's_ warp engine and alerted the admiral. His timely warning kept the other ships in the admiral's squadron from suffering the same fate as the _Psthan _and _Klomak_."

"So that's what happened to your ships."

"Yes. Defective plasma injectors were introduced into all seven ships. When Admiral Kiran ordered the squadron to go to maximum warp, the injectors overheated, causing _Psthan _and _Klomak_ to explode. So far we have been unable to determine who was responsible or how the saboteurs were able to gain access to our ships. We have also failed to determine how Terra Prime was able to broadcast a message claiming responsibility for the attack, using one of our secure diplomatic frequencies."

"Why the secrecy?" Archer asked, a frown furrowing his brow. "Captain Hernandez and I were standing by, ready and willing to help."

Tamura watched with interest as Vaaris leaned forward and poured himself a cup of tea. Evidently Vulcans used commonplace tasks to buy themselves time to think, just like Humans.

"We appreciated your offer of assistance, Captain," the diminutive minister finally said, "but this was and is a Vulcan matter. We do not make it a practice to involve others in our affairs unless it is absolutely necessary. That is why Minister T'Pau asked Commander Tucker to withhold the details of the disaster until the High Council was prepared to make them public."

"That's dereliction of duty," Admiral Gardner snapped. "Tucker is a Starfleet officer. He owes his allegiance to us, not to the Vulcan High Council. He doesn't have the right to pick and choose what information he passes along to us. He should have made a full report as soon as he returned to _Enterprise_."

Vaaris held up a hand placatingly. "We may have been wrong to ask the commander to keep silent, but we had no choice. In this case, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. Commander Tucker understands that. That is why he was willing to endanger his career."

"You're talking in riddles. If anything, I'm more convinced than ever of Tucker's guilt. He's conspired with you to keep Starfleet in the dark about what's happening here on Vulcan."

"You're wrong, Admiral," Soval replied. "Commander Tucker's only goal has been to protect Earth and the Coalition."

"I'm sorry, Ambassador, but I don't see things that way."

"That is because you only know part of the story."

"Then you'd better fill me in on the rest because, so far, I don't see the need for all this secrecy."

"You would do well to learn patience, Admiral." A look of disapproval flitted across Torok's face. "We have risked everything to meet with you today."

"I'm sure no offense was meant," Belliveau said smoothly, casting a cautionary glance in Gardner's direction. "Commander Tucker's arrest has placed the admiral in a very difficult position. He knows that when the charges become public knowledge, it will only inflame isolationist sentiments back on Earth."

"I apologize if I was too abrupt." The determined look on Gardner's face was anything but apologetic. "But you have to realize that I don't have time for diplomatic niceties. In a little over an hour, my staff is going to issue a press release, outlining the charges again Tucker. Once that happens, there's no going back. Even if he's found innocent our relations with Vulcan will be damaged, possibly beyond repair."

"Admiral Gardner is correct," Tamura added. "The followers of the Peace Forever…" He hesitated. "I'm sorry, are you familiar with the Peace Forever Movement?"

"Yes," Torok replied. "Ambassador Soval keeps me informed."

"Well…the followers of the Peace Forever Movement will try to use Tucker's court martial to destroy the Coalition and limit Starfleet's ability to defend Earth. That would be devastating, especially in light of the Romulan threat. If you know anything that will clear Tucker, please tell us now before it's too late."

Torok took a deep breath and carefully placed his cane next to him on the bench. "What I am about to tell you is not common knowledge on my world. Only a few members of each generation are entrusted with the secret. My colleagues and I are now prepared to place this information in your hands. Depending on how it is used, it can aid you in your fight against our common enemy or it can utterly destroy your Coalition."

Gardner started to say something, but Torok raised a hand, silencing him. "There is more. If the Romulans discover that you are privy to this information, you will be marked men. You have seen how far they've been willing to go to destroy Commander Tucker. You must be prepared to have that – and more – visited upon you."

After taking a quick poll, Gardner said, "We're willing to risk it."

"Good." Torok motioned to Soval, who was seated next to him, and the ambassador poured him a glass of water. After draining the glass, he handed it back to Soval and started to speak.

"Many centuries ago, Vulcans were a wild, barbarous people. Our uncontrolled emotions had brought us to the brink of destruction. Surak realized that embracing logic and a non-violent way of life was the only thing that might prevent the total annihilation of our species. This Time of Awakening, in essence, saved us from ourselves. There were those, however, who felt that Surak was misguided. Rather than conform, they chose to leave Vulcan. These people colonized a number of planets…including Romulus."

Gardner tilted his head to one side, an intent look on his face. "So you're saying that Vulcans and Romulans are related."

"We share a common ancestry, yes. But we have little in common with those who march beneath the Raptor's wings. They are militaristic, utterly ruthless, and driven by their emotions – all traits that we have struggled centuries to overcome."

"I can certainly see how such a revelation could prove awkward," Belliveau said, "especially in diplomatic circles. If the Romulans ever decided to move into this quadrant, it would be difficult to convince our Coalition partners that you weren't in league with the enemy."

"Quite so," Torok replied. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid the invasion has already begun."

Tamura sat up straighter. "I wasn't aware of this."

"There are as yet no enemy ships headed this way, Admiral," V'Lar said, "but the Romulans are here, nonetheless. For decades now, they have been infiltrating our fleet, our schools, our government – virtually every sector of our society. They would have us believe that they only want to see our peoples reunited, but in actuality they have something far more sinister in mind. They want to conquer us…to destroy any and all vestiges of Surak and the world he created."

"How do you know this?" Gardner asked.

"Minister Speth had been quietly collecting intelligence on the Romulans for years," Torok said. "On the night following the attack on the _Ti'Mur_, a Romulan assassin put an end to his life. Attempts were also made on the lives of T'Pau, Kuvak, and six other prominent figures in our government. Seven of the assassins were known to us; they had lived and worked alongside us for many years. However, autopsies revealed that they all carried a distinctive antibody in their blood – an antibody unique to the Romulan people."

"Trip was attacked that same night," Archer said.

"Yes."

"So…you're saying that it was a Romulan who tried to kill him."

"Yes. He posed a serious threat to their plans. He had to be eliminated."

"And, contrary to what Trip told me, he saw his attacker, didn't he?" Archer's mouth was set in a grim line.

"Yes. At first, he thought he'd been attacked by a Vulcan priest, but, being a bright young man, he soon deduced correctly that his assailant was Romulan.

"The following day, I pledged him to secrecy because, as Ambassador Belliveau noted, in the event of hostilities it would be extremely difficult to convince the members of the Coalition that we weren't in league with the Romulans. This would be especially true of the Andorians."

"But the Andorians and the Romulans are allies," Gardner observed. "They signed a non-aggression pact."

Torok waved a hand dismissively. "You and I both know that it is only a matter of time until the Andorians are betrayed. When the worst happens, they will turn to the Coalition for support, but only if there is no question of Vulcan's trustworthiness and loyalty. And believe me when I say that it will take all of us, working together, to defeat the Romulans."

Archer got to his feet, walked around the bench and slowly began to pace as he tried to sort things out. "So the Romulans figured that with the High Council out of the way, they could begin their invasion with only limited opposition."

"Not exactly. The coup was never designed to eliminate the High Council – only those people in our government who were most likely to oppose V'Las' return to power."

"Why would the Romulans want to return V'Las to power?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Ambassador V'Lar replied. "He was in league with them."

"I don't believe this," Gardner groaned, as he scrubbed a hand across his forehead. "You're telling us that the head of the High Command was working with the Romulans?"

"Yes. That is why he tried to involve us in a war with the Andorians – to destabilize this sector and pave the way for a Romulan invasion."

Tamura made a mental note to sit down with his staff in the Vulcan Branch as soon as he returned to _Warsaw_. Since he had no knowledge of any of this, their job performance obviously left much to be desired.

"We're in the administrator's house," Tamura observed, "but he's conspicuous by his absence. Where is V'Las?"

"He was killed trying to evade capture," Vaaris said.

_At least his people had gotten something right_, Tamura thought, with some annoyance. For the past month, there had been frequent reports hinting that V'Las was dead, but until now those reports had never been confirmed.

"When the coup failed," Vaaris continued, "he tried to flee, along with Major Talok, a Romulan agent. The data disks, which Commander Tucker delivered to you, were found in the remains of V'Las' shuttle. That is why we felt confident they were authentic."

"Admiral Kiran helped us set the trap that brought about V'Las' death," Soval added, "but that only happened after the commander convinced Kiran that V'Las was no longer acting for the good of Vulcan. Up to that point, the admiral had been one of V'Las' staunchest supporters. Vulcan owes Mr. Tucker a sincere debt of gratitude."

"Why be so secretive?" Archer threw open his arms entreatingly. "If your government was in trouble, why couldn't you just come to us and ask for our help?"

"There is no logic in that," Torok replied chidingly. "This was not simply a question of petty malfeasance. The leader of the High Command had just been exposed as an enemy agent. Talok had served in a position of authority in the Ministry of Security. The Romulan who attempted to assassinate Minister T'Lan had served as an attaché in our embassy on Earth for almost two decades. One of the other assassins had been a well-respected instructor in the Vulcan Science Academy. How can we ask you to trust us when we aren't sure whom we can trust? Could we honestly expect your government to continue to deal with us in good faith?"

Torok turned to Belliveau. "Ambassador, is that a fair assessment of the situation?"

"Yes." Belliveau pressed his lips together, a look of concern on his face. "The United Earth government would want some assurances that they were dealing with the legal representatives of the Vulcan government and not with subversives. Given the circumstances, those assurances might be difficult to come by."

"And what about Starfleet, Admiral Gardner?" Torok continued to press his point. "Would your dealings with Vulcan have remained unchanged?"

"We…would, of course, want to review the situation carefully before deciding on a course of action."

"Judging by the look on your face, I'd say that you're already contemplating making some changes in how you interact with our government and with our fleet. Am I correct?"

"I'm not sure I'd go quite that far."

"Perhaps you're even beginning to have doubts that the five of us can be trusted." Torok motioned to his fellow Vulcans. "For all you know, we, too, could be Romulan agents."

"Look, are you sure things are really this bad?" Gardner plowed his fingers through his hair. "Surely you have a pretty good idea which people in your government are still trustworthy."

"We think everyone on the High Council is loyal to Vulcan."

"You…think?"

"We think the officers from the Ministry of Security, who are protecting you today, are loyal to us and to Vulcan."

"Is that really the best you can do?"

"For the time being, yes," Vaaris said. "We have been working to unmask the infiltrators and the Romulan sympathizers, but it is a difficult, time-consuming process. To expedite matters, we asked Commanders Tucker and T'Pol to help us sift through the information left by Minister Speth. So far they have both exceeded our expectations, proving themselves to be intelligent, persistent, and discreet."

"So that's why they were sneaking around in the middle of the night," Gardner said.

"Yes. Everything has to be done in secret. If word of our activities leaked out, attempts would be made to destroy the wealth of evidence Speth left for us."

"It probably wouldn't do much for your life expectancy, either."

"The need for secrecy is why we chose to meet here today," Vaaris said. "After V'Las' death, his property was seized by the government. We did not think our enemies would look for us here. So far we have been proved right."

"We have only been trying to buy the time necessary to put our affairs in order," V'Lar said. "It is unfortunate that you disapprove of some of our methods, but that can't be helped. We are fighting for our survival."

"We have gone against the wishes of our people to entrust this information to you," Torok said. "Use it wisely. And never forget that you must exercise caution before revealing what you now know to someone else – even someone you consider a trusted friend. Before attacking, the Romulans believe in weakening their opponents from within. Their agents are undoubtedly already at work on Earth."

"I find that hard to believe," Gardner said. "Romulans may be able to pass as Vulcans, but that doesn't mean they'd go unnoticed on Earth."

"Certain physical characteristics can be altered."

"They can't change the color of their blood."

"No, but that is only a minor obstacle."

"In all probability," Vaaris said, "the Romulans have already found a number of Humans who are willing to act for them," Vaaris said.

"After witnessing the destruction from the Xindi attack, no Human would help an alien power undermine our government," Gardner stated firmly.

"They may not know they are dealing with aliens."

"Surely they'd have to suspect that something…wasn't quite right."

"Not necessarily. The Romulans are very clever.

"As for patriotism," Vaaris continued, "that certainly applies to the vast majority of Humans, but you and I both know that in any culture there are always a few people who are motivated solely by greed or the desire for power. Discontented individuals – those who feel cheated by life – will often grasp at any opportunity to improve their lot, even to the point of betraying their own people."

"Minister Vaaris is correct," Soval said. "Keep in mind that Terra Prime transmitted a message using one of our secure diplomatic frequencies. That is an indisputable fact. It is also a fact that Terra Prime would not deal with Vulcans directly; that would go against everything they stand for. Therefore, there must have been an intermediary, someone the members of Terra Prime would trust. That could only be another Human."

"And consider the message of the Peace Forever Movement," T'Pol added. "Julian Esterle preaches isolationism. He advocates disbanding the Coalition and severing all ties with alien powers. His most recent speech – one given yesterday at a rally in Mexico City – outlined his plans to lobby for a reduction in the number of Starfleet vessels and a halt to any new construction. Instead of achieving peace forever, that sort of plan would only seem to guarantee that Earth will be far more vulnerable, if and when an attack does come. Esterle is playing right into the Romulans' hands."

"Are you implying that he's a Romulan agent?" Gardner said tightly.

"Not at all. I am only saying that if Earth implements his proposals, a Romulan attack has a far greater chance for success."

"Is there any truth in these claims?" Gardner asked, turning to Tamura. "Are Romulan infiltrators a legitimate threat to us?"

"I'm not aware of any current attempts to infiltrate our government, but Ambassador Soval makes a good point about the unauthorized use of their diplomatic frequency. It does raise some serious questions. We'll get on it immediately."

"What about Esterle?"

"We found nothing out of the ordinary when we looked into his background. I'll check with Security to see if they have anything on him. I'll also have him put under surveillance. Considering what's at stake, it's probably best to err on the side of caution."

"While that is an admirable first step, it is little more." There was an undertone of urgency in T'Pol's voice. "The Romulans have had decades to burrow into our society. If they are intent on moving into the Alpha Quadrant, they will not have that same luxury when it comes to Earth. They will look for contacts which will give them the greatest impact in the shortest amount of time. Organizations like Peace Forever or Terra Prime will be very appealing targets. Lobbyists, government officials, teachers, reporters, anyone who has a public forum for their ideas and advocates isolationism or disarmament should be suspect. These people would all be perfectly placed to act for the Romulans. By crippling Earth's …"

"That's enough," Gardner snapped. "You're only trying to undermine our confidence in our own government."

"We are trying to open your eyes to a potential threat," V'Lar said. "When you are dealing with the Romulans, you can never let down your guard. They are masters at exploiting the weaknesses of their opponents."

"Is that why you thought it was necessary to spy on us?" Tamura said, his gaze firmly fixed on T'Pol and Soval. "You wanted to see if we were smart enough to figure things out for ourselves. When we didn't fully appreciate the Romulan threat to Earth, you decided it was time to spell things out for us."

V'Lar's back stiffened. "To my knowledge we have not been spying on your people, Admiral."

"I beg to differ, ma'am." Tamura dipped his head respectfully.

"If you intend to make an accusation, please be more specific."

"As you wish. We have recently discovered an unauthorized file buried in _Enterprise's_ computer. The file, which was of Vulcan origin, was designed to monitor transmissions to and from _Enterprise_." Out of the corner of his eye, Tamura noticed that Archer had suddenly stopped pacing. The captain was standing stock-still, hands on hips, with a look of incredulity on his face. As soon as they were finished here, some damage control would definitely be in order.

"V'Las was on board," Tamura continued, "but he and his party were never left unsupervised; they couldn't have done it. And we can eliminate Captain V'Lin; the file was planted before his visit. That leaves only two Vulcans who had both access and opportunity: Ambassador Soval and Commander T'Pol."

"I assure you, Admiral, that T'Pol and I are not spies," Soval replied coolly.

"I'm sorry, but someone planted that file in the computer. You two are the only ones who…"

"That is not entirely correct," T'Pol interjected quietly. Her hands, placidly folded only a split second ago, were now clenched tightly together.

"If you have any information, Commander, we need to hear it," Gardner said.

T'Pol acknowledged his statement with a nod of her head. Taking a deep breath she said, "There was…another Vulcan on _Enterprise_. I don't know if he had an escort. It's possible that he did not."

"We need a name."

"My former husband, Koss. He came to visit me twice: once to bring me a present from my mother not long before her death and a second time soon after the discovery of the Kir'shara."

"The timing's right," Tamura observed. "Isn't he the son of a member of the High Council?"

"Minister Herac…yes," V'Lar confirmed.

"He's the man you said was pushing Vulcan to leave the Coalition, isn't he?" Gardner asked.

"We have carefully investigated Herac's entire clan, including Koss," Vaaris replied. "We have found nothing to indicate they are guilty of treachery. The minister is known to have conservative views, but only recently he has spoken out against the Romulans."

"I find it hard to believe that Koss is a spy," Archer said tightly. "If he hadn't given me the transport access codes, we might have failed in our attempt to remove V'Las from power."

"Perhaps he's just a man who was trying to keep tabs on his ex-wife," Belliveau said, in the weary tones of a man who believed that all people, regardless of species, were plagued by many of the same failings.

"Of course there may be a perfectly innocent explanation for the presence of the file on _Enterprise_, but it is possible that it was planted to..."

Soval never finished his thought because the door suddenly swung open and one of the security officers entered. He whispered a couple of words to Komas, and then made a beeline for Vaaris. Standing to attention, head held high, he said, "Minister, your presence is required outside."

Vaaris glanced at Torok before responding. "Is there a problem, Major Pyk?"

It didn't seem, possible, but the officer's back became even more rigid. "There is no cause for concern, but there has been an…incident. If you would come with me, I believe the matter can quickly be resolved."

"Can we help?" Archer said.

"That will not be necessary," Vaaris said as he got to his feet. "I am sure that we can…"

"We would welcome your assistance, Captain," Torok said, with a stern look at Vaaris. "We have nothing to hide. Perhaps Admiral Tamura would also be willing to accompany you."

"Certainly." When Tamura was on his feet, he turned to the others and bowed. "Please excuse me."

As soon as the four men stepped out of the house a blast of hot air hit them full force. Once again Tamura found it difficult to breath. Fortunately the major, who stood over a head taller than Vaaris, reduced the length of his stride to accommodate the minister's shorter legs. With the pace slowed, Tamura called upon the breathing techniques he'd learned during his training in the martial arts; that provided some relief.

The major had the lean body typical of many Vulcan males, but judging by the slight strain in the fabric of his uniform across the chest, back, upper arms and thighs, his powerful muscles were better developed than most. Near his left temple, he had a single, large patch of white in an otherwise jet black head of hair.

When they reached the back of the house, they saw one of the security men stretched out on the ground. A lieutenant was leaning over him, his hand jammed in the man's mouth. A female sublieutenant was standing close by, weapon at the ready.

"Lieutenant Marot, what are you doing?" Vaaris said. He took a step forward but the major moved smoothly in front of the minister, halting him.

"Please remain here, sir," Major Pyk said. "We caught Lieutenant Tomac in the act of planting an explosive device." He pointed to a discus-shaped object, partially covered by stones and sand, lying on the ground near the base of the wall. "He did not have time to arm it, but it would still be wise to stand back."

Archer turned to Tamura. "Have you ever seen one of those before?"

"Yes," the admiral replied grimly. "If that had gone off, this butte and everything on it would have been reduced to a handful of gravel." He watched as the muscles in Archer's jaw tightened. "For what it's worth, we would never have known what hit us."

"Why doesn't that make me feel a whole lot better?"

Suddenly, Marot jerked his hand out of the lieutenant's mouth and held up what appeared to be part of a molar. "Tomac was prepared to take his own life," he said.

When Tomac groaned, Marot, a young man blessed with the sensitive face of a poet, stood up and handed the molar to the major.

"Get up, Lieutenant," Vaaris said in a commanding voice.

Tomac rolled over on his side and shook his head, trying to clear it. He had obviously been stunned. Rubbing a hand over the side of his face, he finally got slowly to his feet.

"Explain your actions," Vaaris ordered

Instead of appearing contrite, Tomac lifted his chin defiantly. "I was doing what needed to be done."

"By planting explosives?"

"By taking decisive action. If I had been given a few more seconds, I could have permanently severed the link between Vulcan and Earth. Your High Council would be discredited and the rightful inhabitants of this planet could return once again in triumph." He pressed one hand against his chest. "I would be revered for my courage and daring."

"Fortunately, you didn't get those precious seconds," Vaaris observed icily. "And you can forget your dreams of glory. You have earned a traitor's death, nothing more."

"What made you think that your actions would cause Earth and Vulcan to break off relations?" Archer asked. "If anything, an act of terrorism like this would only serve to bring our peoples closer together."

"You Humans are too stupid to see the truth when it's spread before you." Tomac coughed once then a self-satisfied look spread over his face. "I do not believe the people of Earth would stand idly by while four prominent Humans were kidnapped and killed by Vulcans, do you, Captain Archer?" Pressing his hand against his chest, he coughed again, this time more violently. "As for the Vulcan High Council," he continued, gasping for breath, "they would no doubt be most displeased that four Humans planted explosives that killed five Vulcan citizens without provocation."

"You can't have it both ways," Archer snapped.

"Of course we can. We can do anything." Suddenly Tomac's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. Kneeling down beside him, Marot put an arm around his shoulders to steady him.

Archer's expression made a swift transition from outrage to concern. "Shouldn't we get this man a doctor?"

"Too late," Tamura said quietly.

"Prepare yourselves," Tomac wheezed. "We are coming. Soon all that you have will belong to the Romulan Empire or it will be dust."

This time when Tomac coughed, green blood trickled from a corner of his mouth. Placing a trembling hand on Marot's knee, he managed to whisper, "Sa-kai," before his body went limp.

For a few moments no one spoke, then Marot let Tomac's lifeless body drop to the ground. As he got to his feet, it was obvious that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"You seem distressed, Marot," Vaaris said. "Did you know Lieutenant Tomac well?"

Marot quickly squared his shoulders as he tried to cover his lapse of control. "I grew up with him. We trained together for our Kahs-Wahn."

"And he never gave you any indication that his loyalties weren't with Vulcan?" Tamura asked.

"No. On the contrary, I joined the Ministry of Security at his urging. We wanted to protect our world…to protect Vulcan." Marot clasped his hands behind his back. "I thought I knew him. Obviously I was wrong."

"Lieutenant, you are confined to quarters until further notice," Vaaris said.

"I understand, sir. You will find nothing suspicious in my background. I am loyal to Vulcan."

"Three weeks ago Tomac said almost those same words to me," Major Pyk said coldly. Raising his weapon, he motioned to Lieutenant Marot.

As the lieutenant was lead away, Archer said under his breath, "I thought the Vulcans removed the poison."

"Of course it's always possible that he had more than one poison pellet," Tamura said thoughtfully. "He would not want to be taken alive. Vulcans are very thorough when they interrogate prisoners. If I had to hazard a guess, though, I'd say that Lieutenant Marot removed the antidote, not the poison."

"Antidote?"

"That type of explosive device has a timer. Timers are used so people can blow things up and live to tell about it. I think the lieutenant had an escape route planned, but…fate intervened."

"Do you think the Vulcans knew it might be an antidote when they removed it?"

"You would have to ask them."

Tamura heard a noise behind him and, looking over his shoulder, saw that Torok, Gardner and the others had joined them. Vaaris immediately went over to the Vulcans and began to fill them in, while Gardner and Belliveau headed for Tamura.

"What happened?" Gardner murmured, taking a quick look around.

Tamura pointed to the corpse. "That young man was caught planting explosives. He wanted to use our deaths for political advantage."

"Romulan?"

"Yes…or a sympathizer."

"So everything the Vulcans have been telling us is true."

"Apparently."

"If there is even a remote chance that the Romulans could be infiltrating Earth," Archer said, "Starfleet Security has to be made aware of the potential threat."

"I'll take care of it." Gardner used his uniform sleeve to wipe the perspiration from his brow. "But just to be on the safe side…before I open my mouth I think it would be best if you briefed me on our top Security personnel, Osamu. From here on out, we can't afford to confide our suspicions to the wrong people. I'll meet you on _Warsaw_ tomorrow at 0900. I know this is short notice, but make your reports as thorough as possible."

"Aye, sir." Tamura decided that maybe it was time to do a quick review of his own personnel. He felt confident that they all believed in the ultimate goal – the security of Earth – but it didn't pay to become too complacent.

"I regret that this occurred while you were our guests," Torok said, as he slowly walked over to them. "But perhaps this man's death has served a useful purpose if it helps you understand the realities of the world in which we all now live."

"We got the message loud and clear," Gardner said.

"I believe it is time for us to return these gentlemen to their embassy," Vaaris said to Torok, as a security officer picked up Tomac's body and carted it away as if it was nothing more than a sack of grain. "I am no longer certain that we can guarantee their safety."

"I agree." Torok motioned for Komas to join them. "Ready the shuttles. We will be leaving immediately." He pointed toward the four Humans. "You will return these gentlemen to their embassy. Allow them to transmit any messages they feel are necessary."

"Yes, sir."

While Komas headed off to complete his task, Gardner said, "It would be a show of good faith on your part if you'd allow Commander T'Pol to return with us. I give you my word that she'll be treated fairly."

"Unfortunately, Admiral, we cannot agree to that," Torok replied. "Given the anti-alien feelings on Earth and the ease with which evidence has been manufactured against T'Pol, we are obviously wary of Human justice. As a citizen of Vulcan, T'Pol has a right to whatever protection our government can provide – at the moment all we can offer is sanctuary."

"But can't you see how that looks to the people back on Earth?" Gardner said. "T'Pol is accused of stealing classified information and now you're protecting her. It makes your government look like a willing accomplice."

"The Ministry of Security sees the falsification of evidence against Commanders Tucker and T'Pol as a direct attack on Vulcan," Vaaris said. "I have something for you, which I believe will serve as proof of our good intentions." Reaching into his robe, he pulled out two data disks and handed them to Tamura. "These disks contain everything we have discovered to date in our investigation of the charges against the commanders. They also contain information from Minister Speth's files: primarily intelligence reports on the Romulans…and a few Humans. Look them over. Perhaps you will find something useful."

Tamura took the disks and thoughtfully turned them over once in his hands before placing them in a pocket for safekeeping. This was more than he could have ever hoped for. Hands flat against his thighs, he bowed respectfully to Vaaris. "Thank you, Minister. My only regret is that I have nothing to give you in return."

Vaaris gave his head a brisk nod and said, "Find the evidence that will free Commander Tucker and vindicate T'Pol. That will be more than adequate recompense."

Major Pyk rounded the corner of the house and motioned to the young sublieutenant, who had been standing by quietly, taking everything in. The expressionless look on her attractive oval face gave no indication of how she felt about seeing one of her colleagues die virtually at her feet.

"Revered Father," she said to Torok, "the shuttles are ready. Please follow me."

Tamura noticed immediately that the Vulcans had tightened security. The walkway, which led around the side of the house and out to the shuttles, was now heavily guarded. Glancing skyward, Tamura saw several shuttles flying overhead, undoubtedly there to provide cover in case of an attack.

As they hurried along the front of the house and out onto the path through the remnants of the garden, Archer brushed past Tamura and fell into step beside T'Pol. "Are you all right?" the captain asked quietly.

"Yes." T'Pol's eyes remained focused on the path ahead of her.

"I want you to know that we're working around the clock to find the proof that will clear Trip… and you. I know you didn't do this, T'Pol."

"And do you also believe Commander Tucker is innocent of the charges?"

Archer drew back slightly. "Of course. I'm surprised you'd even have to ask. After twenty years, I think I know Trip pretty well. He's loyal, he's self-sacrificing to a fault, and, God help us, he's stubborn, but he's no spy. He just dug himself a hole without giving any thought as to how he was going to climb out of it."

"A hole?" T'Pol looked askance at Archer.

"Look, once this is over, let me see what I can do about getting both of you transferred back to _Enterprise_. Things haven't been the same since you left."

When the group passed through the gate in the outer wall, the landing area appeared to be almost more mirage than reality as waves of heat undulated up from the rocky surface. Two shuttles, hatches open, stood ready and waiting for them.

When T'Pol failed to respond, Archer placed a hand on her arm. "You are interested in coming back, aren't you?"

"We will have to see what the future may bring," she replied quietly before pulling her arm from his grasp. Apparently stunned by her response, Archer stood rooted to the spot as T'Pol made her way toward the shuttle on the right; his eyes never left her.

Ambassador Belliveau, face reddened and breathing heavily from his recent exertions, entered the other shuttle immediately after taking his leave from Ambassadors V'Lar and Soval. Gardner said a few parting words to Torok and quickly followed Belliveau. While Tamura was expressing his thanks to the high priest, Major Pyk and Archer joined them.

"It is time to board," the major said to the two Humans. "There are no other ships in the vicinity, but it would be unwise to delay any longer. We will provide an escort to your destination." The major turned to the high priest. "Revered Father, please step to the other…"

Torok waved him off. "I will be going with these gentlemen."

"But…"

"If I am aboard, it should ease their minds. They will know that we only have the best of intentions. Now if you will excuse me." Torok stuck one foot over the threshold and entered the shuttle.

Realizing that any further protestations would be futile, Major Pyk ordered Komas to head straight for the embassy and then closed the hatch.

Once they were airborne, Archer leaned over to the High Priest, who had taken the seat next to him, and said, "I've been waiting a long time to thank you for helping Trip. You managed to reach him when no one else could."

Torok looked out the viewport as a larger Vulcan shuttle took up a protective position off the starboard side. "Commander Tucker helped me see Humans in a new light. I count myself fortunate to have made his acquaintance."

"I hope you'll visit _Enterprise _someday so that I can thank you properly."

"My place is at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. It is where I can be of use to my people." Torok grew quiet, pensive. Suddenly he thumped his cane lightly on the deck. "But this is a day for breaking tradition. Perhaps the greater good can be served by abandoning some of the rigid customs that have kept Vulcans introspective and aloof for too many years. I accept your invitation, Captain..." He held up a bony index finger. "…but only if I am first allowed to make a brief stop at your embassy to visit Commander Tucker."

To be continued…


	13. Chapter 13

"**THE BRIAR PATCH"**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** I apologize for the delay in finishing this chapter. The words just wouldn't come. I also want to thank you sincerely for your reviews. I really appreciate them. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. His suggestions, as always, have been invaluable. This chapter includes several words which normally aren't a part of polite conversation. I hope no one is offended.

CHAPTER 13: ARCHER

Jonathan Archer raised his fork and mechanically shoveled its contents into his mouth. Pasta primavera wasn't a personal favorite of his – he was more of a meat and potatoes man – but tonight he really didn't care what was on his plate. He just wanted to get this meal out of the way and head for his ready room. He had a lot of work to do.

The meeting to present his convoy plan was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and it was probably going to be a tough sell. Since Tellarite ships were still the only ones which had been attacked, the other species were beginning to question why they should become involved. Starfleet alone couldn't provide the necessary protection for all the cargo ships; they would have to have help. Unfortunately the Coalition couldn't compel its members to participate. The other species would have to be convinced that it was in their own best interests to cooperate. That unenviable task had fallen to him. He now had to find a way to make it work.

But first he had to get through this interminable meal. Then he could concentrate on the job at hand.

While he finished chewing, he glanced around the table at his fellow dinner companions. Commander Lucia Sabatini sat across from him. Yesterday he'd rashly promised her lunch and a tour of _Enterprise_. The meeting with the Vulcans earlier in the day had precluded that, but, true to his word, he'd sent a shuttle to collect the Starfleet prosecutor at 1800. Now Lucy, charming and vivacious as ever, had managed to put legal concerns aside long enough to chat amiably with Doctor Phlox. Seated next to Phlox, Lieutenant Commander Kevin Byum, Archer's first officer, was in the middle of a spirited conversation on crew morale with the new chief engineer, Anna Hess. Byum – tall, thin, all elbows, knees and sharp, angular features – was a nice enough guy, but he couldn't begin to match T'Pol's expertise. Perhaps that's why he constantly seemed to gravitate toward Hess. She understood what it meant to be handed shoes that were too big to fill. Glancing to his right, Archer saw Hoshi motioning with her hands while she quietly talked things over with Malcolm Reed. He knew they were both desperately trying to find some scrap of evidence that would prove Trip's innocence. Judging by the gleam in Hoshi's eye, maybe they were finally on to something.

And then there was the honored guest.

In true Vulcan fashion, Torok didn't converse while he ate, but he seemed to be fascinated by his fellow dinner companions. Archer was willing to bet that this was the first time he'd ever been alone in a room full of Humans – and one very upbeat Denobulan. This would, undoubtedly, be one evening the High Priest would never forget.

Archer looked over and saw Torok watching him. He was forced to admit that it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He'd spent the better part of the afternoon with the High Priest – given him a tour of the ship, talked to him about trivialities – but he'd learned next to nothing about the man. Torok took everything in, but he gave away nothing of himself in return.

What did Trip see in this man? Archer scooped in another mouthful of pasta and methodically began to chew. Why did he feel comfortable confiding in him? Sure, Torok had a commanding presence, but he was a Vulcan? How could he possibly understand a Human, especially one as emotional as Trip? The two men had never set eyes on each other until a few months ago, and yet Trip had immediately poured out his heart to him. Why?

Was it strictly an issue of privacy? Trip had tried to keep some important things from Starfleet – his depression and his continuing problems with Terra Prime – and he'd been right to be concerned. Lucy Sabatini had confirmed as much during his interrogation. And Archer knew he could have done nothing to help. If Trip had confided in him and someone in authority and had asked him point blank about Trip's health, Jon knew he would have eventually had no choice but to divulge what he knew, regardless of the damage it might do to Trip's career. The same expectation of confidentiality that existed between a doctor and patient or a lawyer and client didn't exist between a captain and his subordinates. Jon's responsibility first and foremost was to Starfleet.

But maybe it went beyond the need for privacy. Earlier in the day, Jon had been standing outside the embassy's interrogation room when Torok was ushered in to see Trip. After a moment of shocked silence, Trip had jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair over in the process. Just before the door slid shut, Jon had seen a smile spread across Trip's face. There'd been no embarrassment or guilt because of his shackled hands. His expression had clearly shown the respect and affection he felt for Torok.

At one time, Jon had seen that same look directed toward him, but not anymore.

Somehow over the past several years, everything had changed. As his responsibilities had increased, Jon knew that the job – whether he liked it or not – had to take precedence over his friendship with Trip. Trip understood that; he knew the pressures Jon had to face every day. But Trip was a social animal. He needed someone to talk to. In the Expanse, T'Pol had apparently become his confidant. Now it was the High Priest. Jon knew he should have seen something like this coming, but he still felt the loss nonetheless. If the truth be told, Trip's friendship meant far more to him than he was willing to admit.

But with the Romulan threat…with the Coalition in danger of falling apart, he had no choice but to focus all of his attention on….

Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm, bringing his attention back to the here and now. A quick glance around the table revealed questioning looks in seven pairs of eyes. Hoshi removed her hand from his arm and, keeping a careful eye on him, said, "The bridge has been calling you, sir." She pointed toward the comm panel on the wall behind him.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth he heard: "Bridge to Captain Archer."

With a mumbled, "Thanks," he reached for the comm button. "Archer here."

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but Admiral Uhlani wants to speak with you. He says it's urgent."

"All right. I'll take it in my quarters. Archer out."

Excusing himself, he left the room and moved quickly down the corridor, torn between relief at being away from his guests and concern over what new disaster loomed on the horizon. He knew the admiral wasn't an alarmist. He wouldn't contact him – and use the word urgent – if everything was copacetic.

As soon as he entered his quarters, he went straight to his desk and with the press of a button the admiral's face filled the monitor.

"We've got a problem," Uhlani said, before Jon's butt even made contact with the chair seat.

Stifling a sigh, Archer sat back and pasted a weak smile on his face. "Why don't you fill me in, sir?"

"The Andorian government has decided to sever diplomatic relations with the remaining members of the Coalition."

Archer jerked upright. "They must be out of their minds. Why?"

"They didn't offer any explanation."

"Can't they see that the Romulans are only trying to isolate them from the other worlds in this quadrant?"

"They either haven't thought that far ahead or they don't care. Either way, the Andorians aren't our biggest concern at the moment. Our embassy personnel have been given until noon day after tomorrow to leave Andoria."

"Do we stand our ground or do we go?" Archer asked, as both hands curled into fists.

The expression on Uhlani's light brown face tightened. "We go. We may be forced into a war with the Andorians and their Romulan allies someday, but not now. We're not ready." He tilted his head and looked searchingly at Archer. "I thought you of all people would want to avoid a fight, Captain."

"I'm not looking for a fight, Admiral, but how can we prevent a war if we can't keep the lines of communication open?"

"Unfortunately it seems the Andorians have taken that option out of our hands. The important thing now is to get our people out of harm's way. _Columbia_ is standing by. They'll start loading passengers and baggage early tomorrow morning. Admiral Gardner wants _Enterprise_ to break orbit immediately and head for Andoria. We want you in a position to provide support if Captain Hernandez runs into trouble."

"I have two guests on board."

"Time is short. Can you take them with you?"

"One of them is Torok. I don't think the Vulcans would appreciate it if we flew off with their High Priest."

"Damn. Is he still there?" Uhlani muttered as one hand kneaded the back of his neck. Evidently Archer wasn't the only one who was feeling the strain from this latest diplomatic setback. "Admiral Gardner told me Torok was paying you a visit, but I thought he'd be long gone by now. Get rid of him as fast as you can, but be polite. We've got enough problems without pissing off the Vulcans, too."

"Aye, sir. Tell Captain Hernandez we're on our way."

"Good luck," Uhlani added, before ending the transmission.

Alone once again, Archer planted his elbows on his desk and covered his face with his hands. Everything was falling apart. Earth was rushing headlong into another war. That much was clear. Only this time it could set two quadrants ablaze. He had to do something to stop it before it was too late.

Jon straightened up and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. He didn't have time for this. Planting his hands on his desk, he pushed himself slowly to his feet. He had to get back to his guests.

When he reached the dining area, his first officer was waiting for him.

"Commander Sabatini had another appointment this evening, so I sent her back to the embassy in Shuttlepod One. She wanted me to pass along her thanks for your hospitality, sir."

Archer motioned toward the door. "Are the others still in there?"

"The party broke up when the commander left…except for the High Priest. He decided to stay put. I think he wants to talk to you alone."

"I'm afraid our chat will have to wait. We're heading out. See that Shuttlepod Two is prepped. The pilot will be staying on Vulcan until we return; choose someone who isn't vital to the running of the ship." Tense and tired, Archer curled his right hand into a fist and drove it into his left palm. "Who's returning Commander Sabatini to the embassy?"

"Lieutenant Reed."

_Shit_, Archer thought to himself. He couldn't leave without his tactical officer.

"How long have they been gone?" Archer asked tightly.

"It couldn't be more than two or three minutes."

Archer slapped the comm panel beside the door. "Archer to the bridge."

"Lieutenant Waverly here, sir."

"Contact Shuttlepod One. Tell Lieutenant Reed to turn around and get back here on the double. Someone else will transport Commander Sabatini to the embassy."

There was a moment of silence before Waverly replied, "Aye, sir. Bridge out."

Archer turned back to his first officer. "Prepare to leave orbit as soon as Commander Sabatini and the High Priest are safely on their way."

"Can you tell me where we're headed?" Byum's rather prominent Adam's apple bobbed like a cork caught in rough water, but to his credit, he never allowed his nervousness to show on his face. Fresh from a three-year stint on Admiral Leonard's staff, this was his first tour of duty in deep space.

"Andoria."

Archer quickly filled in his first officer then sent him off to brief the other members of the senior staff. Now all that was left for him to do was bid farewell to the High Priest and send him on his way.

When the door slid open, Jon saw that Torok hadn't budged. He was still sitting quietly – hands folded on the table in front of him – in the same chair he'd occupied at dinner. Judging by the expectant look in his eyes, he already had the evening's agenda planned. It was too bad Jon was going to have to disappoint him.

"My apologies, sir, but I'm afraid our visit will have to be cut short. _Enterprise_ has been ordered to go to the aid of another Starfleet vessel. We'll be leaving immediately. I've arranged for one of our shuttlepods to take you back to Mount Seleya."

Torok studied him carefully then asked, "Are you at liberty to tell me where you are going?"

His first impulse was to say no, but then Archer thought better of it. The Vulcans had been open and honest with them today. And this man was the High Priest. What harm could it do?

He took a couple of steps forward and gripped the back of the closest chair. "We're going out to meet _Columbia_."

Torok furrowed his brow, bringing each wrinkle into sharper focus. "Is there a problem with the Andorians?"

"Well…" Archer was somewhat taken aback that Torok was aware of _Columbia's_ location. Evidently, when the High Priest said that Soval kept him informed, it wasn't an overstatement.

"I know how to keep a confidence, Captain," Torok said quietly but firmly. "If you tell me that the information goes no further, I will honor your wishes."

Archer could accept that – anything to get this show on the road. "The Andorians have broken off relations with the remaining Coalition powers. We're evacuating our embassy."

"I see." Torok ran the palms of his hands lightly over the tablecloth, smoothing away several small wrinkles in the process. "Has the High Council been informed of this?"

"I don't know for sure, but I rather doubt it. And yes, I would appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself. I'm sure your government will find out soon enough." Archer motioned edgily toward the door. "Now if you don't mind, we really do have to go, sir. I have my orders."

"Actually, I think it would be best if I stayed."

Caught off guard, Archer was momentarily at a loss for words. Finally he replied, "I don't think that would be wise, sir. Your people will be worried about you."

"Nonsense. Contact Ambassador Soval. He will take care of everything."

"But I'm not sure I can guarantee your safety." Jon struggled to keep the frustration out of his voice. He didn't have time to play games with a stubborn old man. "We don't know what we might be getting ourselves into. If anything happened to you while you were on this ship, it could have a negative impact on our relations with Vulcan."

"If it will ease your mind, I am prepared to take full responsibility for my actions." Torok pursed his lips ever so slightly. "This is not a decision I make lightly, Captain. I think I can be of assistance."

"I don't see how you could possibly…"

Torok raised one hand, silencing him. "Logic dictates that I should remain here."

"Logic! Archer snapped, his patience at an end. "What does logic have to do with…?"

A voice from the comm mercifully saved Jon from saying something he probably would have regretted later.

"Byum to Captain Archer."

Archer's eyes remained on the High Priest as he reached for the comm button on the wall behind him. "Go ahead."

"Lieutenant Reed is back on board. Is the High Priest ready to depart?"

Archer's eyes were still locked on Torok's. He'd worked with T'Pol long enough to recognize when a Vulcan was prepared to dig in his heels. He didn't like the idea of keeping the High Priest on board _Enterprise_, but he wasn't prepared to forcibly remove him either. Like it or not, Torok was going to win this round. Dammit! He hated being maneuvered into doing something against his better judgment.

"Torok's decided to stay. Launch the shuttlepod and get underway as soon as possible. When we clear the system, go to warp five."

"Aye, sir. Is there anything else?"

"Contact Ambassador Soval. Inform him of Torok's decision to remain on board. Archer out."

Returning his attention to the High Priest, Archer said coolly, "I hope you enjoy your stay with us, sir. Now if you will excuse me, I have a ship to run. There's a steward in the next room. He'll be happy to see to your needs."

"I regret that you feel it is necessary to leave. I was hoping that we would have time to talk."

Archer took a deep break and counted to ten – very slowly. He wasn't sure when he'd lost control of this situation, but it couldn't continue. He had work to do. "Unfortunately I'm rather busy right now. Perhaps I'll have some time later to chat."

"At the risk of being presumptuous, may I ask what business is so pressing that it requires your immediate attention?" Torok lifted one eyebrow questioningly. "Andoria is a long way away."

Archer could do little but curse inwardly. There was, of course, no pressing business. He knew it. And what was worse, he knew that Torok knew it. Until they rendezvoused with _Columbia_, there was little he could do except monitor the situation. That meant that for the moment his time was his own.

But he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. He refused to accept that his efforts to bring people together had been a total failure. Right now he should be ensconced in his ready room, studying background materials, reading reports. If he dug deep enough maybe he could find a way to bring the Andorians back into the fold. He just needed time, inspiration, and a little luck.

Torok unfortunately had other ideas. Motioning towards the chair Archer was still clutching with both hands, he said, "Why don't you have a seat, Captain? We have a great deal to discuss."

"This isn't a good time."

"Commander Tucker is worried about you. I see now that his concern is justified."

That stopped Archer cold. He gave his head a bit of a shake to clear his mind. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. Slapping one hand against his chest, he exclaimed, "Trip's worried about me?"

"Yes."

"Is that what the two of you talked about today?"

"Briefly, yes."

"Trip should be worrying about himself," Archer bristled. "He's the one sitting in the brig, not me."

"Some prisons have physical boundaries; others do not. If we let down our guard, certain emotions – anger, fear, lust, jealousy – can trap and hold us far more securely than any locked door. That is one reason why we Vulcans work so diligently to control our emotions."

"That's all very interesting, but I don't see how it applies to me."

"Don't you, Captain? You've seen firsthand how easily a person can be trapped by his emotions and brought to the brink of ruin. When you realized what depression and grief were doing to Commander Tucker, you tried to help him. Can't you see that now he is only trying to help you?"

"This is crazy." Archer threw his arms in the air in frustration. "I'm not suffering from depression."

"That may be true, but you are obviously under a great deal of stress. That can be as damaging to your health as some virulent disease."

"Stress is part of my job. I can handle it. Trip should know that by now."

Jon started to pace, but came to an abrupt halt when he looked over and noticed that Torok was watching him closely. Okay, he had to admit that he'd been tense lately, but it was hard to remain detached when the Coalition was falling apart faster than a sand castle at high tide. And, yes, he still had a few issues to resolve from his time in the Expanse, but this wasn't the time or the place for some amateur attempt at psychoanalysis. Besides, he hadn't allowed the added stress to affect his work. Trip was just blowing things out of proportion.

"Have you sought help from a physician?" Torok asked. "I understand that your Doctor Phlox is very skilled."

"With all due respect, I don't think that's any of your business." Archer's voice was a little sharper than he intended, but his patience was wearing thin. "I'm capable of handling my own affairs."

"I see." Reaching down, Torok took hold of his cane, which was lying on the deck next to his chair. When he straightened up again, he pushed his chair back and slowly got to his feet. "Commander Tucker said you would not be cooperative. It appears that he was correct. Since there is no point in wasting any more of your valuable time, perhaps you would direct me to a room where I could meditate."

"Look, if I thought I needed professional help, Starfleet has plenty of qualified doctors."

"You don't believe I'm qualified to assist you?"

"I'm not questioning your qualifications. I'd just feel more comfortable talking to someone who's…" Archer suddenly realized he was sailing into dangerous waters and snapped his mouth shut.

"…Human?" Torok finished the thought for him. "That is perfectly understandable, Captain. Although I would have thought that the man who had the honor of carrying Surak's katra would have no qualms about confiding in a Vulcan. But then you know best."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jon scrubbed a hand over his forehead as he tried to think. Relations with the Vulcans were hanging by a thread, and he'd just managed to offend their high priest. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. His decision was made. He had no intention of baring his soul to a perfect stranger. And he sure as hell didn't want someone poking around inside his head again. If he could lay his hands on Trip right now, he'd kick his sorry ass clear back to Earth for getting him into this mess.

"I apologize, sir," Archer finally said. "It wasn't my intention to be insulting."

"Your apology is accepted."

"I know you mean well, but…what was right for Trip isn't necessarily right for me." Archer walked over and with the press of a button the door slid open. "I'll send a crewman to escort you to a room where you can have some privacy. Good night, sir."

* * * * * * * * *

At breakfast the following morning, Archer was restless and on edge. He'd checked with Starfleet three times in as many hours, but the situation on Andoria hadn't changed for the better. Before long, _Columbia's_ crew would begin transporting essential baggage up from the embassy. Ambassador Steinbach, embassy personnel, and their dependents would go aboard this evening. Any other citizens of United Earth who wished to be evacuated had just twenty-four hours to report to the embassy or risk being left behind in a potentially hostile environment.

Captain Hernandez was going to have her hands full, and here he sat with nothing to do. He tossed his fork down and pushed aside his plate of pancakes and sausage. He'd never been good at waiting, even as a child.

If only Trip and T'Pol were here, the three of them could talk things over and… No. He refused to think about that. Trip and T'Pol were gone, and there was a better than even chance that they'd never be back. His eyes slowly traveled from one empty chair to another. He couldn't deny that he missed them…but he didn't need them. He didn't need anyone. He could manage on his own. He'd proved that to himself time and time again.

Taking a last swallow of orange juice, he set the glass down hard on the table and pushed back his chair. He needed to do something constructive. Perhaps an apology to Torok was in order. He'd been a rotten host last night. Sure the High Priest's talk about stress and depression had made him feel uncomfortable, but at this point in his career he should be able to set personal considerations aside for the greater good. Yesterday, before they'd parted company, Admiral Tamura had told him that he should feel honored that Torok had accepted his invitation; the high priest traditionally never left Mount Seleya. Here he'd been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make points with one of the most influential members of Vulcan society and he botched it. Today, he promised himself, would be different.

Fortunately he had a first-rate crew. According to his steward, the High Priest had breakfasted with Phlox over an hour ago and when last seen was headed off for a more in-depth tour of sickbay. Knowing the doctor as well as he did, Archer figured that it was a safe bet Torok was still there.

As soon as he walked through the sickbay doors, he saw the two men standing together in the doctor's lab. Judging by the cooing sounds coming from Phlox's menagerie and the yard-wide smile on the doctor's face, the visit so far had been a rousing success.

"Good morning, Captain," Phlox called across the room. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Not this time. I just came by to check on our guest." Smiling, Archer walked over to them. When he reached Torok, he said, "You appear to be in good hands, sir."

"Doctor Phlox is an excellent teacher." The High Priest motioned towards the various cages, tanks and crates. "I am impressed by his willingness to make use of the healing agents that nature provides. It is a philosophy that Vulcans have long embraced."

Archer bent down until he was at eye level with the tank which held the osmotic eel. He tapped one finger lightly on the side of the tank and was rewarded with a subtle flexing of one of its four arms. There was no denying the value of the small aquatic creature – he had, after all, personally benefited from its healing powers – but he didn't think he'd ever get used to a bandage with suction cups.

Straightening up, he said, "It may have taken some of us awhile to adjust to the doctor's methods, but I think every member of this crew would agree with me when I say that now we'd be lost without him."

The doctor's face brightened like a sun ablaze at high noon in response to the captain's praise. "I do what I can."

"Engineering to Doctor Phlox."

The doctor quickly covered the few steps to the comm panel. "Go ahead."

"Hess here. There's been an accident. I've got two people on the way to sickbay with burns on their hands. I don't think the injuries are serious, but they're in a lot of pain."

Before Phlox could reply, Archer snapped, "Will we be forced to reduce our speed?"

"No, sir," Hess barked. From her tone of voice, Archer could almost picture her standing at attention. "We're good to go."

"I'll be ready when they arrive," the doctor said, with a wary glance at the captain. "Phlox out."

Turning back to Torok, he continued: "Unfortunately, duty calls. I've enjoyed our time together this morning. Perhaps we'll be able to talk again."

"I look forward to it."

Motioning toward the door, Archer said, "I'm on my way to the bridge. Why don't you join me? My communications officer is very proud of our universal translator. I know she'd like to tell you more about it."

Torok only response was a nod of the head. Moments later, however, as the two men slowly walked down the corridor toward the turbolift, he said, "I appreciate your hospitality, Captain, but I do not need to be entertained. I am accustomed to fending for myself. There is a great deal going on here. I am perfectly content to sit and watch."

Torn between the need for diplomacy and the need to know what was happening on his own ship, Archer quickly considered his options then came to a halt. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "Maybe it's time you leveled with me, sir. Why are you really here? If I'm not mistaken, you usually stay pretty close to Mount Seleya."

Torok stopped and turned to face Archer. "As I told you yesterday, Commander Tucker asked me to speak with you." He placed both hands on the knob of his cane, apparently settling in for a lengthy chat.

"I know, but I don't buy that. This isn't just about doing a favor for Trip. There has to be something more to it."

"Did you learn nothing from our meeting yesterday?"

"Evidently not enough."

As Archer waited for a response, he kept his eyes locked on the High Priest. The old man's face gave nothing away, but suddenly the image of a majestic eagle popped into Archer's mind. Given Torok's thick, white hair and hooked nose, that wasn't surprising. But with the image came a mental nudge that while eagles were indeed noble creatures, they were also birds of prey with sharp talons and beaks designed to rip their victims to shreds. Archer quickly disabused himself of such a ridiculous idea. He knew this man posed no threat to him.

After taking a few moments to collect his thoughts, Torok replied, "If we, as a people, wish to survive, we will have to learn to adapt. Surak showed us the way once before, but over the years we have distanced ourselves from his teachings. As a result, we have become rigid and complacent. We no longer learn from our mistakes or from the mistakes of others. When help is offered, we refuse it as a matter of course. Why? Because we see ourselves as superior. Since it is unacceptable for our failings…our imperfections to be put on public display, we isolate ourselves in times of trouble. This cannot continue."

Archer took a deep breath as he carefully considered what he'd just heard. He appreciated Torok's straightforward approach, but deep down he was still a little wary. This was too good to be true. Vulcans never talked this openly to anyone about anything.

"That's very interesting, but it still doesn't explain why you're here." Archer pointed an index finger toward the deck plating. "What do you want from us…from me?"

"I am here to learn. If Vulcans are to move forward, we must gain a greater understanding of our allies as well as our enemies."

"You've had a hundred years to learn about Humans." Archer made no effort to keep the slightly bitter tone out of his voice. "Why the sudden interest now?"

"I believe your people have a saying: Better late than never. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Your point, though, is well taken, Captain. Over the years, my people have shown little interest in truly understanding Humans. Our attention was so focused on remediating your faults that we failed to fully recognize or appreciate your strengths as a species. That must end.

"Humans, to a large extent, will shape the future of this quadrant," Torok continued. "As an adviser to my people, I must learn all that I can. Before yesterday, Commander Tucker was the only Human I had met face-to-face. I must know if he is typical of your species."

"I see." A smile crept over Archer's face. This, at least, sounded plausible. "I appreciate your candor. You're welcome to study us to your heart's content, but I can tell you right now that Trip is far from typical. He's…well he's…"

"Special?"

"Yeah." The smile slowly became wistful then vanished completely. "Special."

"From what I have observed so far, I tend to agree with you." Torok raised one hand, palm forward. "That, of course, is in no way a reflection on you or your crew."

"Understood." Archer gestured toward the turbolift and the two men started forward again. "If you're interested in learning more about Humans, our computer contains an extensive collection of movies and books."

"Movies?"

"Yes. You know…motion pictures, films."

"Ah, yes." Torok nodded. "I have never seen a movie, but I do know that Commander Tucker finds them instructive."

That comment brought a smile, once again, to Archer's lips. "The Trip Tucker I know doesn't usually watch a movie for its educational value."

"Do not be misled, Captain. Illumination can come cloaked in many guises."

"You may be right." When they reached the turbolift, Archer hesitated. He'd been looking for someone or something to keep Torok occupied. This might do nicely. "If you're interested, I can arrange for you to watch a few of our movies."

"That would be acceptable."

Silently congratulating himself, Archer motioned to the right. "Why don't we go to your cabin?" He started down the corridor and Torok followed.

"Are there any specific aspects of human behavior you'd like to explore? I would be happy to make some recommendations."

Torok thought for a moment. "Specific aspects, no, but several names come to mind. Are you familiar with John Ford and…Groucho Marx?"

"Yes."

"And Frankenstein. I believe I would like to see _Frankenstein_. Commander Tucker seems to think highly of it."

Archer's smile grew wider. The mind meld Trip had shared with Torok obviously made a lasting impression on both men. Needless to say, if the High Priest was being guided by Trip's cultural likes and dislikes, this whole experience could be a real eye-opener for the Vulcan. Torok could probably handle a western without too much trouble. But the Marx Brothers… It might be worth hanging around just to see Torok's reaction.

"John Ford's film _Stagecoach_ might be a good place to start. It's a western." When Torok raised an eyebrow questioningly, Archer explained: "The story takes place in the western part of the United States of American in the latter part of our 19th century, hence the term. They're often fairly basic stories. Good guys versus bad guys."

"I see. And do you have _Frankenstein_?"

"Yes. It's a much more complex story. I'll be interested to hear your reaction to the film. When T'Pol watched it for the first time, her review practically left Trip speechless. That doesn't happen very often."

"And this Groucho person?"

"He was a comedian. He made movies with his brothers Harpo, Chico and Zeppo." Archer cleared his throat. Explaining the Marx Brothers to a Vulcan wasn't easy. "They were…um…well, they got themselves into a lot of unusual situations."

"Are their actions typical of Human behavior?"

"Absolutely not." This was one point Archer knew he had to make perfectly clear. "Comedians are interested in making people laugh, so the characters often say and do things that would generally not be considered acceptable conduct."

"You are speaking of humor."

"Yes."

"Is it necessary for one to become familiar with humor in order to gain a better understanding of Humans?"

"I'd say so. It plays an important role in our mental and physical wellbeing. _A Night at the Opera_ should give you some idea of the type of things that make Humans laugh.

"And if I might offer a personal suggestion," Jon continued, "why don't you try _Spartacus_? It's a story about a slave revolt during the time of the Roman Empire. It might help you gain a better understanding of the Human spirit: our determination to right injustices, to overcome even the most challenging obstacles, and to fight on when common sense tells us that all hope is lost."

"Is that what drives you, Captain? This Human spirit?"

Archer shrugged. "It's as good an explanation as any, I guess."

Stopping in front of Trip's former quarters, Archer entered his override code and the door slid open. Slowly he walked into the room and took a look around. This was the first time he'd been in Trip's cabin since his friend was reassigned to Vulcan. For some reason it came as a bit of a shock that everything was gone – all of Trip's personal effects. Hess had been given the option of moving in when Trip left, but she'd declined. Evidently she, too, was hoping he'd return.

Archer motioned toward the desk chair. "Have a seat. I just want to check in with the bridge and let them know where I am."

After delivering the message, Archer turned back to his guest. Torok was seated in the chair, waiting for him.

"When we were in the Expanse," Jon said, "we couldn't always find the time for Movie Night so Trip put together a selection of movies for the crew to watch in their quarters." He leaned over and, after turning on the monitor, began to access the necessary files.

Of course, it had never occurred to Jon to watch a movie while Earth was in danger; he had to stay focused on the task before him. But since their return from the Expanse, he'd viewed many of the films, but always alone in his cabin, with only Porthos for company. More and more, it seemed that loneliness was the price he had to pay for living his dream.

"Do you find it distressing to be here?" Torok asked.

Archer looked back over his shoulder at the High Priest. "You mean in this cabin?"

"Yes."

"Why would I be distressed? It's just a cabin like any other on this ship."

"I understood this was Commander Tucker's quarters."

"That's right."

"Then you do not miss him."

"Of course I miss Trip. He's been like a brother to me."

"And yet you're angry with him. Why?"

Archer straightened up and stuck his hands on his hips. "I suppose Trip told you about our session in the interrogation room," he replied. "I had every right to be angry."

"Because you think he's a traitor?"

"No."

"Then you think he is innocent?"

"There isn't a dishonest bone in Trip's body. Of course I think he's innocent."

"Then why were you angry? Was it because you thought his actions reflected negatively on you?"

"That isn't it. I…" In frustration, Jon turned on his heel and walked across the cabin to the viewport. He knew damn well why he was mad at Trip: his best friend had no trouble confiding in a couple of Vulcans, but he couldn't manage to come clean with him. After yesterday's meeting at V'Las' mountain compound, he had a better idea of what had been going on in Trip's head, but he still couldn't get past the fact that Trip had lied to him and withheld critical information. Someday soon he'd clear the air with Trip. Until that time, though, his innermost thoughts were nobody's business but his own.

For a few moments, Archer focused his attention on the passing stars. Finally, he offered an explanation. "I'm disappointed in Trip because his actions could lead to the destruction of the Coalition. He's always been impulsive. Sometimes he just doesn't think things through."

"And yet he was trying to protect everything you have been fighting for."

"He got some bad advice."

"From Vulcans?"

"Don't put words in my mouth. I have nothing against Vulcans."

"Are you sure? I was under the impression that you blamed us for your father's professional difficulties."

"Trip has a big mouth."

"I did not learn of that from Commander Tucker. I read your dossier."

Archer whirled around and stared at the High Priest.

"Your anti-Vulcan sentiments are well-documented."

Gritting his teeth, Archer struggled to keep his chagrin from showing. "That might have been true when _Enterprise_ launched, but not anymore. Over the years, I've learned to respect your people."

"I am gratified to hear that."

Folding his arms across his chest, Archer took a moment to study the High Priest. So far this conversation had been pretty one-sided. Maybe this was as good a time as any to get things out in the open.

"Since you brought it up, I'm not too happy with the Vulcans right now, but it has nothing to do with any prejudice on my part. Your people were the direct cause of many of the problems we're struggling with right now." Archer's voice began to rise. "If it wasn't for the myopic policies of Admiral Kiran and the High Council, the Andorians probably wouldn't have signed that non-aggression pact with the Romulans, the Coalition would still be intact, and I wouldn't be stuck trying to prevent another war."

"Everything you say is true," Torok replied. "The High Council has made some poor choices, but we are making an effort to change. You must try to be patient with us."

"The Romulans aren't going to wait around for Kiran and his cronies to see the light. The High Council has already thrown Trip to the wolves. Who's next? Earth? The Coalition?"

"Are you in favor of severing ties with Vulcan?"

"I believe in safety in numbers; that's why I worked so hard to build the Coalition. But we have to be able to trust our allies. As things stand now, we can't trust the Vulcans. Your people are too damn stubborn to look beyond their own narrow self-interest. I've lost crewmen in battle; I've had to write letters of condolence to too many parents. I don't want to go through that again. If I'm forced to choose between supporting Vulcan and protecting Earth, it's no contest: Earth will always come first."

When Torok didn't respond, Archer took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger that was bubbling up from deep inside him. This should have been a cathartic experience. He'd finally been given the chance to tell a Vulcan exactly what he thought of mess they'd made of things, but what had he gained? Nothing. He was probably just wasting his breath.

Without further delay, he headed for the monitor, brought up the movie, and jabbed a finger at the center of the monitor. "When you're ready to begin watching, just tap the box that says, 'Run film.'" His finger moved to the right. "You can adjust the volume here. I'll send a crewman to check on you in an hour or so. He can access any additional movies or books you'd like to see. He can also get you something to eat or drink, if you're interested."

Torok studied the monitor then looked up at Archer. "I appreciate the fact that you took the time to assist me, Captain. You are a busy man. You would have to be, given that the future of your people rests squarely on your shoulders."

Archer wrinkled his brow in confusion then took a step back. "I'm not sure I understand you," he said hesitantly. "That may have been true when we were in the Expanse, but not anymore."

"Then you did not believe Daniels when he said that you are crucial to the future of mankind?"

"Daniels! How the hell do you know about…?"

Archer scrubbed a hand over his face. Trip…of course…it had to be Trip. That's the only way Torok could have found out about Daniels. Jon knew he'd never mentioned that "crucial to the future of mankind" crap to T'Pol, but he had let it slip one time: the night after they'd returned Dr. Soong to prison. He and Trip had both still been on edge after their struggle with the Augments, so they'd decided to split a bottle of bourbon. The booze had helped them relax – a little too much evidently. Why hadn't he kept his big mouth shut?

Taking a deep breath, Jon squared his shoulders and said, "I want to explain about Daniels, then I have to get to the bridge."

"By all means."

"When Daniels appeared, he wanted my help…with the timeline." He hesitated. "I assume you know about the Temporal Cold War."

Torok nodded.

"Anyway, I never felt I could trust Daniels completely. He only told me those things – I was crucial to the future of mankind…I would help found some sort of federation – so he could manipulate me. I didn't believe him then. I don't believe him now."

"But your behavior indicates that you do, in fact, believe him."

"That's not true."

"You may not see it, Captain, but others do."

"Why? Because I've been a little tense lately?" Archer pivoted on one foot and began to pace. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. "I'd be crazy if I wasn't tense. You know what's going on. You know that the Coalition is our only hope to keep the Romulans in check. This latest move by the Andorians could bring everything crashing down around our ears. Everyone in Starfleet is feeling the stress."

"But you more than most."

"That's bullshit." Jon knew he was being disrespectful, but it was time he set this man straight. There was nothing wrong with him that a good, stiff drink and a long vacation on Risa couldn't cure. "I'm no more concerned than anybody else."

"**I **wouldn't be stuck trying to prevent another war…**I** worked hard to build the Coalition – those don't sound like the words of a man who feels that he bears no responsibility for the future of his people."

"You're reading too much into what I said. I'm just a Starfleet officer in command of one ship – not a squadron, not a fleet. There are a lot of other people who are far more important to the future of Earth than I am."

Torok raised one eyebrow. "Do you deny that you have already begun to exhibit some of the same negative behavioral patterns that you displayed in the Expanse?"

"I don't know what you mean," Archer replied as he began clenching and unclenching his right fist.

"Of course you do."

"I had to save Earth. I did whatever was necessary to get the job done."

"And now, with the Coalition in peril, you have once again started to isolate yourself from your crew. That is true, isn't it?"

A scowl was Archer's only response.

"You allow problems to totally consume you."

"I take my job seriously. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You lash out at people because you no longer have control of your temper."

"That's your opinion."

"Stress is endangering your health and your relationships with other people."

"If this is about Trip again, you're barking up the wrong tree. The only thing that's endangered our relationship is his deceit!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jon wished he could take them back. The High Priest would undoubtedly use that little outburst to prove his point. And besides, he knew he wasn't being fair. Trip had been placed in a next to impossible position.

Torok sat back and pursed his lips. Archer's last comment had apparently not gone down well. "Can you accept the fact that the burden of shaping the future does not fall on your shoulders alone?"

"Of course I can."

"Then why do you treat each diplomatic setback as a personal failure?"

"I don't."

"I think you do."

"How the hell would you know? You don't know me. We never set eyes on each other before yesterday morning."

"If you do not believe me, ask some of the people who know you best."

"I don't care what other people think. I ought to know how I…" One look at Torok's face and the words died on Archer's lips. Suddenly he realized that he wasn't fooling anybody but himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. That bastard Daniels had really done a number on him. Crucial to the future of mankind. Was he really so far gone that he thought of himself as some sort of superman? Did he really believe that he was the only man who could hold the Coalition together?

Unfortunately Torok wasn't finished.

"Perhaps your concern is not only for yourself. Do you think that failure on your part will reflect on the memory of your father?"

"My father?" That caught Jon off balance.

"Jonathan Archer, son of Henry Archer – I believe that is the way you are often identified. Some people might think that your actions, if you fail, could have a negative impact on your father's legacy."

A picture of Henry Archer formed in Jon's mind and once again he felt his father's loss. When he was a boy, his world had revolved around that one special man – the builder of the first Warp 5 engine – and then one day the connection between them had been severed. The pain, now mercifully dulled by the passage of time, was still with him every day.

Yes, he was his father's son. Yes, he'd spent most of his life trying to live up to his father's memory and advance his dream. But once he'd made the decision to take _Enterprise_ into the Expanse, he stepped out of his father's shadow. He really hadn't given it much thought until now, but suddenly he knew, without question, that it was true.

"I'm my own man," Archer said quietly. "Any failures on my part will reflect on me and only on me. My father's legacy can stand on its own merits."

"Good." Torok bobbed his head once for emphasis. "I was hoping that would be your response."

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do," Archer said as he started toward the door, "but the timing is all wrong. I have to focus on the crisis with the Andorians. My problems will just have to wait."

"That is very shortsighted. If you do not take the time to deal with the added stress you are placing on yourself, you may not live long enough to save your Coalition."

"I'm not afraid to die."

"I expected more of you, Captain. Only a fool needlessly throws his life away."

"I'm not a fool." Archer briefly entertained the idea of walking out the door, but feeling the need to defend himself, he turned instead and headed back toward the viewport. "I'm a man just like anyone else – a man with a job to do."

"Nonsense." Torok began to tap the tip of one finger on the desktop seemingly to emphasize his points. "You are not a man like anyone else. You are a man in a position of authority – the captain of a starship. That is something few men can ever hope to achieve. But that does not give you god-like status, nor does it place the burden of the future squarely on your shoulders. You would do well to set aside the time necessary to gain a better understanding of both your strengths and your limitations."

"But there is no time." Archer rubbed the fingers of both hands against his forehead as he struggled to find a way to make Torok understand the urgency of the situation.

"Then you must reevaluate your priorities. If you are to play an important role in eliminating the Romulan threat, you must first successfully resolve the war you are waging with yourself."

"But you said…"

"I said that the burden does not fall on you alone." Torok motioned toward the bed. "Now please sit down. There is something I must tell you, and I find your constant pacing distracting."

Archer shook his head. "Maybe later. I…"

"It must be now. Once we reach Andoria there may be other matters to divert you." When Archer, despite the High Priest's plea, started for the door, Torok continued: "I was not completely honest with you earlier. There is another reason for my visit."

_I knew it_, Archer thought, feeling a momentary sense of triumph. _I knew he was holding out on me._

"Go on," he said aloud.

"You accused Commander Tucker of being deceitful," Torok said. "That is a fair assessment, but surely you must know that he would never have willingly kept things from you." When Archer opened his mouth to comment, the High Priest waved him off. "We could debate endlessly whether or not the High Council had the right to ask him to keep certain information a secret, but that would accomplish nothing. The damage has already been done. Now we must find a way to remedy the situation. You see, I believe that you and Commander Tucker will both play vital roles in our efforts to thwart the Romulans' plans. But you must be able to work together. I am here to help the two of you settle your differences so you can learn to trust one another again."

"That won't be easy," Archer said quietly. "Trust is not something that can be given; it has to be earned."

"I quite agree, Captain. You may be surprised to learn, however, that Commander Tucker feels that there has also been a breach of faith on your part."

Archer stiffened. He started to defend himself, to say that he'd never given Trip any reason to doubt him, but then he thought better of it. How could he deny the part he'd played in that ugly scene in the interrogation room? He'd turned his back on Trip and walked away just when his friend needed him the most. At the time, he'd felt justified in his actions, but now – remembering the look of utter hopelessness on Trip's face – he knew he should have handled things differently.

Torok pointed again at the bed. "Sit down. I have more to tell you, and as you so aptly pointed out, time is growing short."

Archer hesitated for a moment then, turning on his heel, walked over to the bed and took a seat. He had serious doubts about this whole business, but he knew he'd be a fool not to listen to what the High Priest had to say.

"You said earlier that Commander Tucker was like a member of your family. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

Archer gripped the edge of the bed and, straightening his arms, leaned forward. _Great_, he thought, _we're back to Twenty Questions_.

"Do you want to continue that friendship?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then you must be willing to accept things as they are now, not as they once were. Can you do that?"

"I'm…not sure I understand what you mean." Archer's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out where this conversation was headed. "If you're asking whether I can accept change, the answer is yes."

"Good. Since secrecy has been instrumental in causing the rift between you and Commander Tucker, I have decided to tell you what he could not."

"I'm listening." Clenching his jaw, Archer steeled himself. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.

"During one of Commander Tucker's visits to Mount Seleya, he and T'Pol became a fully bonded couple."

Archer took a moment to let that sink in. A wisp of a memory flitted through the deep recesses of his mind and just as quickly disappeared. With a slight shake of the head, he said, "Let me get this straight. You're telling me…they're married?"

"Yes. I performed the ceremony myself."

"I knew they were spending a lot of time together, but it never occurred to me that they…." Suddenly Archer brought a fist down hard on the bed. "Why didn't they tell me? I always thought the two of them would come to me with something this important. Even if they no longer considered me a friend, as the captain of _Enterprise,_ I should have been informed."

"They wanted to tell you, but they couldn't. They gave their word to tell no one, not even their colleagues or families."

"Gave their word to whom?" Archer snapped.

"Do not blame the commanders," the High Priest said. "This decision was forced on them by Admiral Kiran and Minister T'Lan. The admiral suspected that T'Pol and Mr. Tucker were involved with one another and threatened to cancel the joint maneuvers if they did not comply."

"I should have known," Archer snapped. "If there's trouble, that bastard Kiran's bound to be involved."

"Calm yourself, Captain. Kiran's demand may have been callous, but it was also rooted in a firm understanding of our people. A liaison between a Vulcan and a Human would be considered by many to be unacceptable. Even the intimation of such a relationship would have been enough to end the joint maneuvers before they even reached the planning stage."

"And when the maneuvers were over? They could have told me then."

"They were still bound by their word. Commander Tucker could, of course, have disclosed their marriage to you, but if word got back to Kiran and T'Lan, it would only have confirmed their low opinion of Humans. Any chance of influencing Kiran in the future would have been lost. Given the current political climate, that was too high a price to pay."

"Who made that decision? T'Pau? You?"

"The decision was made jointly by Commanders Tucker and T'Pol. They had the foresight to realize that any announcement of their union would probably have been met by an equally negative reaction on Earth. Our worlds are simply not ready to accept an interspecies couple."

Bristling, Archer replied, "I think the commanders need to have a little more faith in the discretion of their friends."

As much as Jon wanted to hold onto his anger, he couldn't do it. There was more than a little truth in Torok's statement. If word got out that Trip and T'Pol were married, the members of Terra Prime and the Peace Forever Movement would do everything in their power to make the commanders' lives a living hell. Jon knew, without question, that he would do everything in his power to see that that didn't happen.

Archer ran a hand over his brow; he could feel a headache coming on. Surak's katra had been transferred months ago, but every once in a while, when he least expected it, there was a subtle nudge and seemingly innocuous people, places or things suddenly took on new importance. As the days passed, however, the nudges were becoming less frequent and the messages more difficult to decipher. Fortunately, this time Surak's tip was pretty straightforward.

"You said they're bonded. Is that…possible? Can a Human bond with a Vulcan?"

"You know about Vulcan bonds?"

In answer to the question, Jon managed to nod gingerly. He'd just as soon forego trying to explain Surak's dwindling impact on his mind to a Vulcan priest.

"I discovered during the wedding ceremony that the commanders' mate bond is surprisingly strong," Torok said. "They can sense each other's feelings and emotions. Under certain conditions they can share each other's thoughts. In short, their bond is no different than one which is shared by a Vulcan couple."

"I see."

Jon was happy his friends had been able to find a little joy when everything around them seemed to be going to hell, but he didn't need second sight to realize that this bond could prove to be disastrous for both of them. Trip would never be able to convince people back on Earth that he hadn't been brainwashed by the Vulcans. And T'Pol would be vilified, once again, as some sort of Mata Hari, ready to do whatever was necessary to exert control over weak-willed Humans.

As for Terra Prime, those vicious opportunists would claim that the bond provided indisputable proof that aliens only wanted to dominate and enslave Humans. And a lot of people would believe them. Even if Trip and T'Pol were cleared of the charges pending against them, public opinion would probably force them out of Starfleet just when they were needed the most.

Taking a deep breath, Archer scrubbed both hands over his face. Until now, he hadn't fully appreciated just how heavy a load Trip had been carrying. The weight of not one, but two worlds had been pressing squarely down on his friend's shoulders. And that didn't even begin to take into consideration the added tonnage of the floundering Coalition.

"You realize, of course, that this could drive a permanent wedge between Vulcan and Earth," Torok said quietly.

"Yeah."

"And bring an end to the Coalition."

Archer nodded wearily as he heard Torok echo his thoughts.

"If this bond becomes public knowledge," Jon said, "every xenophobic group on Earth will be howling for Vulcan blood. We've got elections coming up. This would probably be just what the isolationists need to swing enough votes to put their candidates in office. Then we've really got trouble."

"I agree with your assessment of the situation."

Levering himself to his feet, Archer slowly started for the door. "This is one hell of a mess. Look, I'll see Trip as soon as we get back. Try to patch things up between us."

"That is very wise."

"Then we have to find a way to clear his name and get him out of the brig. I need Trip and T'Pol here on _Enterprise_."

Torok took a moment to adjust the sleeve of his russet robe. "That…may not be possible."

Jon was only inches from the door, but Torok's comment brought him up short. "Why not?"

"Minister Vaaris has been favorably impressed with T'Pol's analytical abilities. He has asked her to return to the Ministry of Security."

"You can't be serious. T'Pol would never leave Starfleet. Not willingly."

"T'Pol will do whatever is necessary to assist her mate. If she believes that her presence in the Ministry will help uncover the information which will free Commander Tucker, she will not hesitate to resign from your Starfleet."

Archer lifted his chin defiantly. "Then we better get a move on and find the evidence that will clear Trip because I have no intention of losing the best engineer and first officer in the fleet. Not with the Romulans breathing down our necks."

"Your goal is admirable, Captain. I wish you well."

Archer wasn't sure which annoyed him more: the Vulcans' attempt to entice his friends away from Starfleet or his own failure to keep Trip and T'Pol on _Enterprise_ in the first place.

"There is one thing I can do in the meantime," Jon said firmly. "Trip's parents have a right to know they have a daughter-in-law."

"I am sure Commander Tucker would appreciate that."

Torok reached over and touched the monitor. As the opening credits for _Frankenstein_ appeared on the screen, he added: "Take some time to consider what we have discussed. If you wish to continue our conversation, I am at your disposal."

"I'll keep that in mind. Enjoy the movie."

"Vulcans seek enlightenment, Captain, not enjoyment."

That brought a smile to Archer's lips. At least he could draw a little comfort from knowing that some things never changed. "Dinner is at 1800. I'll tell my steward to set a place for you."

"Plomeek broth is all I require." Without further comment, the High Priest turned his attention to the images playing across the monitor.

"I'll see what I can do."

Archer tapped the release button and the door slid open. As he walked towards the turbolift, he decided to check on the status of the Andorian situation as soon as he reached the bridge. If there were no new developments, he'd have his lunch sent to his ready room. He had some thinking to do.

* * * * * * * * *

"Sorry to get you up so early, Jon."

While Archer finished tying the belt of his robe, he took a moment to study the face in his monitor. Erika Hernandez was still beautiful – she'd be beautiful till the day she died – but the strain was clearly beginning to show, especially around the eyes.

"Don't worry," he said. "I was already awake. I'm generally up before 0600 these days. How are things going? Has everyone boarded?"

"A few stragglers are still coming in. With all the restrictions, it's been a slow, tedious process. Every person has to be checked in by the Andorians before they're allowed to board. All baggage is being thoroughly searched. I'm getting a steady stream of complaints about personal items that have been confiscated, but my hands are tied."

"The Andorians aren't Boys Scouts by a long shot, but I'm surprised they're being so openly antagonistic. It almost sounds like they're trying to provoke you."

Erika nodded in agreement. "My thoughts exactly. For what it's worth, Humans aren't the only ones to be singled out. The Coridans have received the same treatment. They didn't have a ship in the area so we're transporting the ambassador and his staff."

"It sounds like you have a full house."

"Standing room only. But we may have bigger problems."

Jon leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"About a week ago, we began to see a marked increase in ship activity. The Imperial Guard insisted that it was only business as usual, but for all intents and purposes, they've thrown a blockade around the planet."

"That's not too surprising given the circumstances."

"To be on the safe side my crew has been charting the comings and goings, including a regular series of long-range scans. Three hours ago we noticed that six ships, all with Andorian power signatures, were on course to rendezvous with each other. Since then, three more ships have joined them. If our scans are right, we're dealing with at least two battle cruisers and three warships."

"And the other four vessels?"

"They appear to be smaller…slower."

"Support ships?"

"Possibly."

Porthos walked over and nuzzled Jon's leg, but the fact barely registered. Reaching down, he distractedly scratched the beagle's ears while his mind processed this information.

"There's more," Erika said. "Fifteen minutes ago, three warships from the blockade broke orbit; they're presently on an intercept course. If they join up with the other ships...."

"That makes an even dozen. What's their course?"

"They're headed straight for you…and Vulcan."

To be continued…


	14. Chapter 14

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** I want to thank you sincerely for your reviews. I really appreciate them. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. He helped me gain a greater understanding of the characters and identify possibilities that I had missed. His suggestions, as always, have been invaluable.

CHAPTER 14: T'POL

She missed him terribly.

T'Pol had spent the last hour in meditation, hoping Trip would join her in the white space they shared as bondmates. Since his arrest, she'd made a point of meditating several times each day. She knew just how difficult this situation was for him, so she was determined to provide him with ample opportunities to commune with her. It was vital that she do whatever she could to keep up his spirits. In return, she received tangible proof that he was alive and unharmed.

But it had been almost twenty-four hours since she'd last been able to connect with him and she was becoming concerned. As the minutes slipped by and she still found herself alone with her thoughts, it seemed likely that this, too, would be just another failed attempt.

Then just when she'd become resigned to the fact that she would have to try again later, there he was.

He always came to her dressed in his Starfleet uniform; prison attire had no place in their world. The smile which lit up his face was the special one he saved only for her. As she silently got to her feet, he walked over to her. They took a moment to drink in the sight of each other. Then he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up passion of long days spent apart.

When they reluctantly broke the kiss, he whispered in her ear, "I miss you so much."

"And I you," T'Pol replied as she clung to him.

She would have been content to remain wrapped in his arms for the remainder of their time together, but when she sensed that something wasn't quite right, she pulled back to get a better look at him. Although he'd tried to mask them, she could see telltale signs of the strain he was under. Worse yet, she had a feeling that he wasn't taking proper care of himself.

"Are you well?" she asked, already fairly certain that she knew the answer.

"As well as can be expected," he replied with a shrug. "How about you? How are you holding up?"

"I am in good health." She rubbed her hands lightly over his back. "But I will feel more at peace when we are together again."

As much as she treasured every second of their time together, she had to admit that the experience was not entirely satisfactory; the bond did have its limitations. When he kissed her, much to her regret, she couldn't taste him or feel the soft caress of his lips against hers. When she inhaled, she was denied the pleasure of his special scent. And when she ran her hands over his body, she couldn't feel the fabric of his uniform or the toned muscles beneath the cloth. Touching, yet not touching – mass without substance. Their minds and the bond they shared could bring them together, but unfortunately they couldn't fully duplicate the real world. She could see him; she could hear his voice. They had full access to their emotions. Anything more was denied them. It was far better than being apart. But she longed for the day when there would be no barriers between them and she could enjoy her husband with all of her senses.

Tightening her grip on him, she silently renewed her pledge to find the evidence that would set him free and clear her name. The people on Vulcan and Earth who had conspired to implicate them were obviously very powerful – they would not be easy to defeat – but she was determined to find a way. She refused to accept that this might be all she would ever have with her husband – a half-life in a dreamlike world of their own making.

"They just released Major Luvan," Trip said softly. "I guess they couldn't justify holding him any longer."

"Ambassador Soval has been working to free both of you."

"Well, he'll know soon enough that he's been at least partially successful."

"And what about you?"

Trip smiled half-heartedly. "They're getting ready to move me to _Warsaw_. It could happen any minute now, so don't be surprised if I disappear all of a sudden."

T'Pol studied his face closely, but he gave nothing away. He had become far too proficient at screening his thoughts. "Why would Starfleet Intelligence want you?" She hesitated as a very real possibility sent an unpleasant chill racing up her spine. "Do they intend to take you back to Earth?"

"I don't know. They just told me to get ready." Trip ran two fingers slowly down the side of her face. "If something's up, I want you to be careful. Is Komas still with you?"

"Yes.

"I think Luvan will try to find you. If he offers to help, don't turn him down."

"Has anyone given you cause to think that I am in danger?"

"No," Trip responded, drawing out the word uncertainly. "Not really. I…I just have a gut feeling."

"I will be careful." This time when Trip held her close, she felt a surge of love from him liberally laced with equal measures of lust and longing.

"Something else is bothering you," he said. "What is it?"

"Minister Vaaris wants me to resign from Starfleet."

A frown crossed Trip's face. "And?"

"Rejoin the Ministry of Security."

"I see." Trip took a moment to process that bit of information. "Are you interested?"

Lifting her chin, T'Pol looked him straight in the eye. "I am only interested in getting my husband out of the brig and back in my bed."

Smiling, Trip kissed her gently on the tip of her nose. "You won't get any arguments from me. But given the way things stand right now, we might not be together again for a long time. If you think the Ministry would be your best option, you should take Vaaris up on his offer."

"I told the minister that I would only give his request serious consideration if I was allowed to continue my investigation into the charges against you."

"Did he agree?"

"Yes. I also told him that my return to the Ministry might only be on a temporary basis. When your name is cleared, we will not want to be separated again. Vaaris knows we are bonded. If you choose to remain in Starfleet, I do not believe he would try to keep us apart."

Trip stared at her wide-eyed. "He knows? How the hell did he find out?"

"Apparently when we were working together, we let down our guard. Our behavior…the way we interacted with each other gave us away. Judging by some of the things Ambassador V'Lar has said to me in the past few days, I believe she knows as well."

"Some secret," Trip replied wryly. "Apparently, the only people who are still in the dark are those we care about the most."

"You must not give up hope. Vaaris contacted me earlier today to say that some new information has just come to light. He asked for my help."

Trip tilted his head inquiringly. "What new information?"

"He didn't say. But maybe this will be the day we discover something important, something which will bring you back to me."

"Just watch your step. The people who are orchestrating this mess play for keeps. If anything happened…."

Suddenly he was gone.

T'Pol stood for a moment, staring at the void between her outstretched arms then slowly lowered them. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, even though she knew it was futile. Everything looked so bleak without him. For the first time, she drew no comfort from the white expanse which she'd created in her mind. It had become little more than a thick, smothering blanket, so unlike the place of solace and serenity she had come to rely on.

Her words to Trip came back to her: you must not give up hope. She had to get hold of herself. She was free; Trip was not. The burden of discovering the truth fell to her, and she was determined not to let him down.

With that thought in mind, she slowly brought her meditation session to an end. Minister Vaaris would be arriving soon.

* * * * * * * * * *

T'Pol took one final look around her room in the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. Yes, she had everything.

An attendant had just brought word that Vaaris' shuttle was landing and, since she would not be returning to the Sanctuary, she had to finish packing the change of clothes, formal robes and toiletries which Ambassador V'Lar had provided for her when she'd been unable to safely return to the United Earth Embassy. Charged with keeping her safe, Lieutenant Komas had insisted that she never stay more than two nights in any location. T'Pol could see the logic in his thinking, but it was still inconvenient to be constantly on the move.

Reaching down, she pulled on her red uniform, the one Trip loved so much. After hastily fastening the closure, she closed her eyes and ran her hands lightly over her body. She knew how much her husband loved the feel of the soft fabric beneath his fingertips – and how much she loved the feel of his strong, yet gentle hands on her.

It was still a source of some amazement to her that a Human had become such an integral part of her life, but she had no regrets. She had come too close to losing him.

After the death of her father, she'd refused to acknowledge the void his loss had left in her life; it was far too painful. She knew that if she allowed herself to think about him, about the pivotal role he'd played in her life, she would not be able to keep her emotions in check. That was clearly unacceptable. It was only after the sudden death of her mother – when history began to repeat itself – that she slowly began to realize that she'd developed a habit of pushing away the people who meant the most to her because she couldn't bear the thought of enduring another traumatic loss. Her relationship with her mother had never recovered; they'd remained estranged to the end. Then she'd started down the same path with Trip. It was only when he'd transferred to _Columbia_ that she was forced to face the fact that he might be gone from her life for good.

But he had come back to her.

Once she'd dropped her guard enough to let Trip into her life, he amply provided the stability and love she desperately needed. Their life together had not been easy – for a time they'd even decided to go their separate ways – but they had always managed to find one another again. Her older counterpart had been correct: she could not imagine what her life would be like without him.

T'Pol took a deep breath. It would be unwise to delay any longer. Minister Vaaris would be eager to depart as soon as possible. After smoothing her hand over her borrowed robes one last time to remove a stubborn wrinkle, she closed her travel bag and left the room.

Komas was waiting for her outside the door. Without uttering a word, he started down the corridor, taking it for granted that she would follow him. For a split second she was mildly annoyed by his presumption. Trip, ever the gentleman, would have taken her bag and then motioned for her to go first. Before her posting to Enterprise, she would never have seen Komas' actions as a breach of etiquette. It was, after all, only logical that the lieutenant would want to keep both hands free; he had been assigned to protect her. But she had surprisingly grown accustomed to the little courtesies which were so much a part of life on a Human ship.

As they passed the unprepossessing door which separated Torok's garden from the outside world, her thoughts turned once again to her wedding. It was true that the ceremony had been an impromptu affair, but that, in no way, made it any less meaningful. For a citizen of Vulcan, it was a great honor to be married by the High Priest. But for her, its significance went far beyond that: it also marked the end of a decades-long search. Once she'd finally agreed to open her heart to Trip and accept him as her mate, she also found herself. Never in her life had she felt such peace, such serenity, even amidst the deadly perils which swirled about them each and every day. Trip was right when he'd observed that Mount Seleya would always be a special place for them.

Komas stepped out of the Sanctuary and took a quick look around before motioning for T'Pol to follow. They walked side by side across the landing and started down the main staircase. There were half a dozen shuttles lining the landing area. Their occupants were probably among the dwindling number of mourners who had traveled to Mount Seleya to pay their respects to the crews of the _Klomak_ and _Psthan_.

As she started down the staircase, T'Pol saw Vaaris standing next to a shuttle parked at the far end of the landing area. Major Pyk of the Ministry of Security stood protectively to one side of the minister. With the sun well on the way to its zenith, the major raised a hand to shield his eyes as he scanned the sky in all directions. A tall, slender young female was posted at the back of the shuttle, keeping watch. She appeared to be the same sublieutenant T'Pol had last seen two days ago at V'Las' abandoned home, only then she'd been standing guard over the body of a traitor, who'd chosen to take his own life.

When she reached the bottom of the steps and started across the landing area, she allowed herself to speculate for the first time on the reason for Vaaris' visit. He'd mentioned new information from an unexpected source, but he hadn't gone into specifics, not that it really mattered. She would take what was given to her and squeeze it until every ounce of information had been extracted. If she was persistent, someday these collected facts would reveal the truth, and her husband would be free once again.

"You are late," Vaaris said chidingly, as soon as T'Pol and Komas walked up to the shuttle. "Sublieutenant Pavis, prepare to take off. Lieutenant Komas, stow the commander's bag." He flicked one hand rapidly, motioning for them to get aboard.

T'Pol had never seen the minister this restless before. Something important must have happened, but she knew better than to ask about it. He would tell her what was going on in his own good time. She would just have to be patient.

As soon as she entered the hatch, she blinked twice then stopped dead in her tracks.

"It is good to see you again, T'Pol." Koss started to get up, then apparently thought better of it and simply waved a hand in the general direction of the seat next to him.

"Why are you here?" she asked, clearly perplexed.

"Koss is the unexpected source I spoke of earlier," Vaaris said, from behind her. "Now take a seat, T'Pol, so we can get underway. We are already behind schedule."

Still unsettled by the presence of her former husband, T'Pol nodded distractedly and moved to the port side of the shuttle. She hesitated before taking the seat next to Koss, but when she could think of no logical reason to refuse, she gingerly eased herself down onto the bench, judiciously leaving ample space between them.

When she finally glanced over at Koss, she could tell that he was amused by her obvious discomfort. That look was all that was necessary to snap her back to reality. She was a married woman, bonded to a brave man she respected and adored. Koss was a part of her past; Trip was her future.

She took a deep breath, calming herself, then she lifted her chin and said, "It is pleasing to see you, as well."

Koss turned his body slightly to face her. "When I heard of your difficulties, I tried to see you, but the Ministry of Security and…others thought that was imprudent. I'm not sure how I can help, but I'm willing to do whatever I can, if you will let me."

T'Pol took advantage of the brief diversion afforded by the shuttle's departure to collect her thoughts. Could Koss actually be of some help to them? His family did have connections, and he certainly seemed to be sincere. But what did an architect really know about subversives and the shadowy world of espionage?

As Mount Seleya faded into the distance, Vaaris folded his small, rather delicate-looking hands in his lap and said, "Koss came to see me late last night. He appears to have made a discovery which may finally give us a clue as to how classified information was diverted from _Enterprise_ to Romulan agents in Shi'Kahr." Vaaris paused. "But perhaps I should let him explain."

All eyes turned to Koss.

After glancing at T'Pol one more time, he said, "For the past six months, I have been working on a detailed survey of important ruins on Vulcan and throughout our territories. The primary purpose of this project is to research the historical significance of each site, document the condition of any structures still in existence, compile a visual record of any noteworthy architectural details, especially those featuring religious symbols, keep careful notes…"

"Get to the point," Vaaris grumbled. Today, he apparently had little patience for lengthy explanations.

Raising an eyebrow at the minister's comment, Koss continued: "Recently, I have been working in the L-langon Mountains. I had just finished my report on the ruins of a small monastery, which is listed in documents in the Sanctuary's archives as predating the Time of Awakening…" Koss raised a hand placatingly in response to a stern look from Minister Vaaris. "…when I came upon an abandoned V'tosh ka-tur settlement."

T'Pol tensed. Even though she knew it was illogical to react so strongly five years after the fact, the mere mention of the V'tosh ka-tur brought back bitter memories of Tolaris and her own abject folly. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself by focusing instead on Koss' story.

"Technically, this settlement did not fall within the parameters of my project," Koss continued, apparently oblivious to her discomfort, "but it piqued my interest. Data from the Bureau of Records indicated that the last remaining settlers had departed five years and three months ago, so needless to say, I was surprised to see signs of recent activity. I decided to take a closer look and found the remains of a body in one of the huts. The corpse had…"

"…this transceiver clutched in his hand," Vaaris interjected. He produced a small metal box, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting it slightly, he pointed towards the bottom. "The imprint on the base indicates that it once was the property of Starfleet."

"Starfleet?" T'Pol was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. "Are you certain that it is authentic?"

Vaaris returned the tiny device to the inner pocket of his robes. "Admiral Tamura was very accommodating. When he checked the serial number, he discovered that the quartermaster on Jupiter Station issued this unit four months ago to Lieutenant Roscoe W. Allan of Starfleet Intelligence. That is rather remarkable when you consider that Lieutenant Allan was killed in the United Earth Embassy bombing over a year ago. As would be expected, the Admiral was most displeased.

T'Pol's mind raced as she considered the possibilities. "Has the body been identified? Is it Human?"

"Animals found it before I did," Koss said, "but I don't believe it was Human."

"A forensic unit has been dispatched to the site," Vaaris said, with a glance at Major Pyk, who nodded in confirmation. "I am sure they will have some answers by the time we arrive."

T'Pol leaned forward. She hardly dared to hope. "According to information I've received, Starfleet investigators have discovered that the illicit transmissions from _Enterprise_ were sent to some location in the L-langon Mountains, but they have, as yet, been unable to determine the exact coordinates. Is it possible that Koss has stumbled on the site accidentally?" She glanced over at Koss, but his face remained noncommittal.

"Anything is possible," Vaaris said, "but we need facts, not random guesses."

He turned towards the pilot. "Sublieutenant Pavis, what is our estimated time of arrival?"

"Twenty-four minutes and thirty seconds, sir," she replied, without turning around. "For security purposes, a more direct course was deemed unwise."

Clearly impatient to begin his investigation of the site, Vaaris pursed his lips and took a deep breath. Turning toward Major Pyk, he said, "I want Admiral Tamura to receive a full account of our findings. Hold nothing back. Is that understood?"

There was a distinct look of discomfort in the Major's eyes. "That goes against Ministry policy, sir. Such information is provided only on a need-to-know basis."

"This situation necessitates an easing of the rules. I expect you to comply with my wishes."

"Yes, sir." Pyk didn't look completely convinced of the wisdom of the minister's decision, but he knew better than to pursue the matter any further.

"Now I would like to be briefed on the actions being taken to secure the site."

Pyk pulled a padd out of the right thigh pocket of his uniform pants, jabbed his finger at the display a few times to bring up the appropriate data, and began to brief Vaaris.

As soon as the minister's attention was focused elsewhere, Koss said in a voice pitched for T'Pol's ears alone, "Are you all right? I have been concerned about you."

"I am well," T'Pol replied softly. "The days following Commander Tucker's arrest were difficult, but I have made the necessary adjustments. I spend my time reading the Kir'Shara and working to free my…" T'Pol paused as she regained her composure. She'd almost made a serious mistake. "…my colleague."

At the mention of Trip's name, Koss turned his head away from her and stared out the front viewport. His rigid posture – so different from when she'd first sat down beside him – left little doubt in her mind that he still cared for her. That surprised her. He had, after all, only recently become betrothed to another woman.

But then again, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she'd misread the situation entirely.

"Ambassador V'Lar told me of your coming marriage," she said. "I would like to offer my best wishes."

"I am fulfilling my obligation to my family. It is a responsibility I take seriously."

His last comment stung, but she was determined not let it distress her.

"I also take my responsibilities to my family and my clan very seriously," she replied firmly. "That is why I consented to marry you, even though it was against my wishes."

When he still refused to face her, she decided it was time to pose a question that had long bothered her. Her eyes moved around the shuttle. The other occupants – the pilot at the helm, Vaaris and Pyk seated across from her – all still appeared to be preoccupied with other things. Even Komas was busy, checking and rechecking equipment, which had been carefully stowed in storage locker in the rear. She would have to risk it. She might not get another chance.

"We would still be married," T'Pol murmured, "if it had not been for you. You obviously wanted the marriage; you were most insistent. Why then did you decide to release me from my obligation to you?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"Be that as it may, your family must have been displeased. You took a great risk for me. Why did you do it?"

The muscles in Koss' jaw clenched. At first, she thought he would continue to withdraw from her, but just when she'd almost given up on learning the truth, he turned to face her once again.

"Your assessment of the situation is flawed," he said. "I did not want to end our marriage. That decision was made for me by my family."

T'Pol drew back in surprise. This had never occurred to her. Koss' family had seemed so adamant that they marry.

"I don't understand. Why would your parents do that? They unjustly accused my mother of theft in order to force me to marry you. Why would they suddenly release me from my vows?"

"It would be best if you did not pursue this any further, T'Pol."

She shook her head. "I think I have a right to know. Why did your parents…."'

"Because you were no longer of use to them."

T'Pol's eyes widened as she tried to make sense of Koss' revelation. "Use to them? I don't understand. According to our agreement, I would eventually return to Vulcan and fulfill my marital obligations to you. I would bear your children, see to your needs, care for your home – what more could they expect from me?"

"You may see yourself as worldly, T'Pol, but sometimes you can be incredibly naïve." There was an unmistakably bitter tone in his voice. "My father was interested in you because of the influence you'd gained with the Humans and Starfleet."

"Influence?"

"You had, after all, gone into the Expanse with them, supported them, even when Vulcan did not. They would undoubtedly have been grateful and rewarded you accordingly. My father believed that you would be perfectly placed to lobby for issues important to the High Command, especially the cessation of diplomatic relations between the Humans and Andorians."

"I think your father seriously overestimated my position with the Humans."

She paused a moment. "Is that why your parents agreed to allow me to return to _Enterprise_ after our marriage?"

"Yes. As my wife, you would owe your loyalty to my family. Before long, you would have begun receiving instructions from my father. If you had refused to cooperate, your mother's position at the Vulcan Science Academy might, once again, have been in jeopardy. You see, my father will go to any lengths to protect Vulcan. That is why he wants an advocate in Starfleet."

T'Pol was shocked. Herac had come close to placing her in a completely untenable position. His demands would have compromised her position in Starfleet and destroyed the trust she had worked long and hard to build with Jonathan Archer.

"But you still haven't answered my question," she pressed. "Why did you end our marriage? What happened to your father's carefully laid plan?"

"That should be obvious." Koss seemed a bit surprised that he needed to explain, but he finally acquiesced. "You traveled to Vulcan with Captain Archer. It didn't take long for those around you to realize that you had very little influence with Archer. He holds the power, not you. And as you know, word spreads quickly in government circles."

T'Pol took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. She'd had a very narrow escape.

Suddenly a thought popped into her head. "Is that why you assisted Captain Archer when he asked you for the transporter codes? You wished to ingratiate yourself with him."

"Of course. By giving him the codes, he became indebted to me and to my family. He may no longer be aware of that obligation, but I can assure you that my father has not forgotten."

"Koss, we found a Vulcan listening device on _Enterprise_. Did you plant it? Was that just another part of your father's plan to keep track of my activities?"

"My father suggested it, but as I explained to Minister Vaaris earlier today, I agreed to do it because it seemed like a logical precaution. Actually, it was quite easy to gain access to the computers on _Enterprise_. I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. It goes without saying that an alien would never be given such unrestricted access on a Vulcan ship."

"But why?"

The warmth in Koss' eyes never wavered. "Even though our lives were going in two very different directions, I still wanted to be sure that you were safe and well. You were my wife, T'Pol. I care for you. I always will."

T'Pol opened her mouth, but what could she say. She believed Koss when he said he cared for her. But to spy on her – that was unacceptable.

"You…have a new betrothed now," she finally said. "You should turn your attentions to her."

The warmth vanished. In its place was an icy stare, which chilled her as thoroughly as a visit to the Polar Regions on Earth.

"As you turned your attention away from me?" he replied. "For a Human."

"For a man I'd spent four years getting to know. For a man I'd learned to rely on – someone I could trust, even in the most difficult circumstances."

"And so you chose to bond with him rather than with me." He lifted his chin and looked away again. "I knew as soon as we knelt before the priest that he had claimed you, but I didn't care. From that moment, according to law, you belonged to me. And you always will."

Before T'Pol could reply, Sublieutenant Pavis called from her place at the helm: "Minister, we are approaching our destination."

Twisting around in her seat, T'Pol looked out the viewport in time to see the shuttle hurtle through a narrow pass in the rugged L-langon Mountains and enter a small valley. From her vantage point, she had a clear view of the barren, rock-strewn valley floor and the settlement off in the distance. The small stone huts, nestled at the foot of a massive mountain, were arranged in three hexagonal groups; one end of each hexagon was open, creating a common area at the center. As the shuttle swept over the settlement, T'Pol speculated that this common area might once have been the site of a garden – there appeared to be a well nearby and trenches which might have been used for irrigation – but after five years of neglect, nothing remained. Today it had been pressed into service as a landing area for the two other Ministry shuttles which were there ahead of them.

As soon as their shuttle touched down, Vaaris was on his feet and out the hatch. Koss pointed to one of the huts in the hexagonal grouping off to the left, which seemed to be the center of activity, and Vaaris immediately headed in that direction, with the others in tow. When they were about half way to their destination, the officer in charge of the investigation – a female lieutenant with the stocky build of someone who spent their time behind a desk rather than in the field – hurried over to the minister and identified herself as Lieutenant Stril. As they covered the remaining distance, she gave him a brief rundown of the efforts to secure the site.

Vaaris took in everything the lieutenant said, but the slight downturn of his lips seemed to indicate that he wasn't completely satisfied. That impression was confirmed moments later when he asked why two forensic teams had been dispatched with only minimal security. Stril's response that this was the standard security complement for a forensic team drew a stern look from Major Pyk, who quickly proceeded to call for additional support.

When they reached the hut, Stril stepped aside, allowing Vaaris to enter first. T'Pol was not far behind. There was only one room – four stone walls surrounding a packed-earth floor – with one small window in the wall opposite the door. T'Pol had no trouble surveying the empty interior of the hut, however, thanks to the artificial lighting provided by the Ministry of Security.

The body lay uncovered directly below the window. Taking great care to keep the revulsion she felt from showing on her face, T'Pol tried to take in as many details as possible. The corpse, which lay sprawled on its back like a cast-off doll, was dressed in a plain brown shirt and pants; a light-weight rust-colored robe lay rumpled in a nearby corner. Animals had removed chunks of flesh, but the head and all four limbs were still present, although somewhat disarranged. It was obvious, by sight and smell, that the body had been dead for some time.

"Tell me what you've discovered so far," Vaaris said, as he stepped forward to take a better look at the corpse.

Quickly producing a padd from her uniform pocket, Lieutenant Stril replied, "The body has been identified as Spaac, Second Secretary to the High Council."

"What was the cause of death?" Vaaris asked.

"The back of his skull was crushed. The extent of the damage would seem to indicate that he died instantly."

Major Pyk stepped around Vaaris and, kneeling down, began to examine the corpse. "Spaac was reported missing over a month ago. This body has certainly not been here for that length of time."

"Quite right, sir," Lieutenant Stril said in clipped tones. "Tests indicate that he was killed approximately eight days ago."

"Eight days…" Pyk stood up and turned to Vaaris. "That leaves us with a number of questions."

"Too many questions," Vaaris replied, deep in thought. "Why did Spaac disappear? Did he go willingly or under threat of violence? Where was he during those missing three weeks? Why did he come to this remote location? Why was he holding a transceiver?"

"Was he complicit in the theft of classified information from Starfleet?" T'Pol added quietly. "To whom did he owe his ultimate allegiance? And who decided that he had to die?"

"Precisely." Major Pyk walked over to the corner, picked up the discarded robe and tossed it over the body. "Unfortunately, this pile of bones will not give us the answers we need." He planted his hands on his hips and looked around the room. "There must be something here – if not in this building, then somewhere in the general vicinity."

Thrusting both hands behind her back, Lieutenant Stril drew herself up. "I can assure you, sir, that our investigation has been thorough. Since we are far from finished, I am certain that…"

Minister Vaaris waved a hand, silencing her, then turned and headed for the door. "The air in here is fetid. I am going outside."

Before he could cross the threshold, however, a young woman, dressed in the dark brown coveralls of a forensic technician, slipped past him, looking for Lieutenant Stril.

"I think we have found where he was living," the young woman said, when she reached Stril. "There are a few pieces of furniture and some personal effects in..."

"Where?" Vaaris snapped.

Glancing his way, the technician hesitated before pointing off to the right. "At the far end of the settlement."

Vaaris didn't wait to hear more. "Show me," he said, as he and Major Pyk strode out the door. The minister, who was almost a head shorter than the major, could move quickly when he was properly motivated. With the prospect of new evidence at hand, he had no trouble matching Pyk step for step. Their rapid progress, however, left the young technician and Lieutenant Stril scrambling to catch up to the two men.

When T'Pol started to follow them, Koss stepped in front of her.

In a flash, Lieutenant Komas was by her side, weapon drawn.

"That will not be necessary, Lieutenant," she said. "I am sure that Koss does not intend to harm me." Apparently unconvinced by her reassurances, Komas remained motionless, his unblinking eyes fixed on Koss. "Holster your weapon," she said firmly. "That's an order."

Still wary, Komas did as he was ordered but remained rooted to the spot. He obviously had no intention of being caught off-guard if Koss made any sudden moves.

When T'Pol returned her attention to him, Koss motioned toward the body on the floor. "Haven't you seen enough? Why don't we return to the shuttle? Vaaris and the others will join us when they have finished."

"The discovery of this body, and any information we find that is connected to it, is just as important to me as it is to Vaaris," T'Pol said emphatically. "Please step aside. I need to learn all that I can."

"To help a Human?" Koss scoffed.

"To free an innocent man and restore my reputation."

She felt that should have been explanation enough, but evidently Koss still wasn't convinced.

"If you remain with Tucker, he will only continue to drag you down into the filth. He is no good for you."

"On the contrary," she snapped, her patience at an end, "he is very good for me." She didn't have time for this nonsense. She needed to know what they'd found in that other hut. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "Please step aside. If you do not, Lieutenant Komas will see that I am not inconvenienced any further."

Koss apparently realized that this was one fight he wasn't going to win. As soon as he took a step back and motioned for her to precede him, she was around him and out the door.

T'Pol managed to catch up with Vaaris and Pyk just as they reached the other hut, which was structurally identical to the one they'd just left. The forensic technician, a petite young woman with light brown hair which curled slightly around her face, pointed to a cot, which, at the moment, was being carefully examined by a colleague, and then to a small metal box which was tucked into the far left corner of the room. "Someone has obviously been living here for some time," she observed. "That chest contains food. There's a small heating unit on the floor next to it." Pivoting in place, she motioned toward a small metal folding table pushed against the wall on the right. "The only personal possessions are over there."

Hands clasped behind his back, Pyk walked over to the table and quickly scanned the objects aligned there. Looking up, he asked the technician, "Have these things been processed? May we touch them?"

"Not yet, sir."

T'Pol looked over the contents of the tabletop: two padds; a well-worn plate, cup, fork and spoon; a razor-sharp knife which was obviously intended to be used for more than simply cutting meat during the evening meal; a small fleet-issue first aid kit; a small tool kit; and another transceiver. Everything was lined up in two tidy rows.

Taking a seat on the small bench next to the table, Vaaris took a moment to carefully scrutinize the objects on the tabletop. "Something is not right," he murmured.

"I assure you, sir, nothing has been touched," the technician said tightly. She may not have been sure of the identity of the man seated at the table, but she obviously realized that he was someone of importance.

Vaaris waved a hand, silencing her. "It's all too neat. I knew Spaac. He was a competent worker, but he never lined things up like this. His workspace was orderly, as would be expected of a man in his position, but there was a random quality to his placement of objects. These things have been laid out like an exhibit in some museum."

"If you are correct," T'Pol said, "then Spaac may not have been the person living here. It is possible that his killer occupied these quarters."

"Or all of this could have been staged for our benefit," Pyk added, through tight lips. "Spaac could have been killed somewhere else and his body dumped here for us to find." He flicked a hand dismissively toward the table. "Along with these trinkets."

"But there was blood on the floor," Lieutenant Stril said defensively.

"That is only a minor obstacle," Pyk countered. "Anyone who could plan and execute such a deception would be more than capable of procuring the necessary blood."

"We cannot afford to simply dismiss these materials as forgeries," T'Pol said. Although she realized that this could be just another dead end, it was not something she wished to contemplate.

"You are, of course, correct," Vaaris said. "This could be exactly what it appears to be: Spaac's living quarters. The killer may have known nothing about this hut and its contents. Everything we see here could be genuine."

He stabbed an index finger at the tabletop. "I have to know what is on those padds."

"We will begin processing them immediately, sir," the young forensic technician said.

"But can we ever be one hundred percent certain that those padds were not placed here to mislead us?" Pyk asked. "This might be nothing more than an elaborate ruse to divert us from…"

"Major," Sublieutenant Pavis called urgently, from the doorway, "two unidentified ships are approaching our location. They're closing fast."

"That is the additional security I requested," Pyk replied.

"They have not responded to our hails."

Pyk suddenly grew very still. "Have you tried all frequencies?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much time do we have?"

"Twenty seconds. The mountains screened their approach."

"Everybody out," Pyk said forcefully. "Scatter and take shelter away from the buildings."

"But, sir," Lieutenant Stril said, somewhat bewildered, "it is illogical to assume that the ships are hostile. You sent for…"

Before Stril had a chance to finish her sentence, two explosions rocked the settlement in quick succession.

"I said everybody out!" Pyk bellowed.

Grabbing Minister Vaaris by the arm, he jerked the smaller man off the bench and propelled him towards the exit. Another explosion, this one much closer, convinced the others in the room that the Major was correct in his assessment of the situation. They immediately dropped everything and fled.

"We must go, T'Pol," Koss said as he grabbed for her arm, but she pulled away from him. Unwilling to walk away from evidence that might free her husband, she lunged for the table, quickly scooping up the padds and transceiver, then she sprinted from the room.

Komas and Koss were waiting for her outside the door. As soon as she appeared, the three of them took off for the common area. As she ran, T'Pol looked up in time to see two sleek shuttles streaking towards them.

"Down," she yelled, as she fell to the ground and covered her head. The padds, still clutched in her hand, were unprotected, but it couldn't be helped. Suddenly she felt a weight on her back and knew instinctively that it was Koss.

A split second later two explosions followed in quick succession. Koss tightened his grip on her as debris rained down around them.

"Get up," Komas snapped, as he gave Koss a vigorous shove.

When T'Pol felt Koss' weight shift, she quickly pushed up with her arms and scrambled to her feet. The hut they had just left was a nothing more than a smoking pile of rubble. Glancing overhead, she saw the two shuttles bank sharply to port as they prepared to come around for another pass. They had to find some cover.

"Follow me," Komas ordered as he headed for the closest hut, keeping low as he ran. T'Pol was right behind him. Her mind was so busy cycling through their options that she barely noticed when Koss joined them behind one of the walls.

"Why are they firing at us?" Koss shouted as he brushed the dust from his hair and shoulders.

"Why don't you tell us?" Komas replied coldly. "You are the one who led us into this trap."

"I had nothing to do with this," Koss responded indignantly. He looked to T'Pol as though he was seeking confirmation from her. Apparently he didn't receive the show of support he'd expected because his expression suddenly changed to one of concern. "T'Pol, you must believe me. I am not responsible for this."

T'Pol didn't know what to think. Treachery didn't seem to be a part of Koss' nature, but then how well did she really know the man. She had entered into an arranged marriage with him, but by then her bond had already begun to form with Trip. When she knelt before the priest and pressed her fingers against Koss', there was no spark, no connection, only a void as cold and empty as the farthest regions of space. _No_, she thought as she tried to clear her mind. _Koss would never willingly hurt me_.

Out of the corner of her eye, T'Pol saw a flash a motion. With the agility and grace of a le-matya, Sublieutenant Pavis darted across the open area between the two rows of huts and pulled up next to Komas.

"There are two dead so far," she said tightly. "Both technicians. I lost sight of Major Pyk and Minister Vaaris."

They all ducked their heads in unison as the shuttles opened fire again.

"It isn't safe here," Komas shouted over the din. "There is a gully…" He pointed off to the left, beyond the huts. "…about twenty-five meters from our position. They will have trouble maneuvering because it's near the foot of the mountain."

"Why leave the buildings?" Koss clearly disliked the idea of sprinting across open ground.

"In an explosion, stone shards can be just as deadly as metal fragments."

"Maybe we could reach one of the shuttles?" Koss was still trying to find a "safe" option, but there weren't any.

"Too dangerous." Komas motioned for Pavis to holster her weapon and get ready. "Besides, the shuttles may have already been destroyed."

"As soon as you get into the open, spread out," T'Pol ordered. "We will be harder to target." When she saw the ships bank to circle around again, she nodded to Komas. It was time to go.

Trip believed in luck. If such a thing did, in fact, exist, she needed it now. Their only hope was to go unnoticed amid the general confusion. Once they were spotted…

"Now!" Komas yelled.

T'Pol took off at a dead run. The two security officers spread apart, as ordered – Komas on her left and Pavis on her right – but Koss stubbornly remained by T'Pol's side.

Suddenly, there was a subtle shift in the sound of the shuttles overhead. She knew what that meant. One of ships had broken away from the other. With all the chaos around them, it was illogical to think that she and her companions were the targets, but somehow she knew it was true. Perhaps she should have paid closer attention to Trip when he warned her that not all luck was good.

When she heard Komas shout, "Down!" she acted instinctively.

Diving over the edge of the gully, she rolled down the steep, rocky bank. Along the way, she lost her grip on the transceiver, but that only made her more determined to hold onto the padds at all cost. Something fell on her as soon as she reached the bottom, but she barely had time to process that information before the ground lurched from the force of an explosion that tore over and around her. She heard a scream – the sound of a katra being torn forcibly from a battered and broken body – and then there was only silence.

* * * * * * * *

T'Pol heard a sound from somewhere far off in the distance.

Someone was calling to her.

She wanted him to stop. Her head hurt and the noise, faint thought it was, was only making the pain worse.

Then someone grabbed her arm and roughly gave it a shake.

Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Groaning, she tried to pull away, but he refused to let go. Even though her brain was sluggish and befogged, she knew it wasn't Trip. He would never treat her with so little consideration.

"-an y-- hear -e?"

The voice was back, a little louder this time, but it was still hard to make out the words because of the buzzing in her head.

"We cannot --main here an- lon--r."

When she didn't respond, strong hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her into a sitting position.

Groaning in pain, she tried to lie down again, but the hands remained firmly clamped around her wrists.

"Commander T'Pol."

Slowly, the self-discipline of a lifetime kicked in and she opened her eyes a crack. The light was too bright, but she forced herself to pry her eyes open a little further. When she was finally able to focus, she saw Lieutenant Komas staring at her intently.

She wondered vaguely why his face was streaked with reddish dirt.

"Can you hear me?" he said again, slowly and distinctly. His voice still sounded like it was coming from a long way away, but at least now the words made sense.

"Yes," she whispered. Her throat felt dry and clogged with dust. She coughed several times, only increasing her discomfort. If only she had a drink of water.

"We must leave." Craning his neck, Komas quickly scanned the surrounding terrain. "It is not safe to remain here."

Feeling something wet trickle down her neck, she ran a trembling hand over her right ear. When she looked at her palm, it was streaked with blood. She stared at it for a moment as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, then she dropped her hand into her lap.

"What happened?" she whispered breathily. She was becoming aware of an unpleasant tightness in her chest.

"We were fired on." Komas pointed toward the ground to her right. "By falling on you, he probably saved your life."

T'Pol turned her head in the direction the lieutenant was pointing and saw Koss lying sprawled in the dirt beside her. It took a moment for her to process what she was seeing – the blood, the gaping mouth, the empty eyes – but she soon realized that he was dead.

Leaning over, she touched his face, but there was nothing left of the man who'd once married and divorced her. His katra was gone. Koss had given his life for her – but why?

Apparently sensing her preoccupation, Komas took hold of her chin and turned her face towards him. "Can you walk?"

T'Pol pushed his hand away before replying, "I think so."

"We cannot afford to delay any longer."

Gritting her teeth, she slowly rolled to her left until she was on her hands and knees and then tried to push herself up, but her body refused to cooperate. After a second failed attempt, Komas effortlessly hoisted her onto his shoulder.

As he made his way up the bank and out of the gully, T'Pol raised her head just enough so that she could see the body of her former husband one last time. She owed him her life. That was something she would never forget.

As Komas turned his body slightly to get a better handhold, she caught sight of another corpse off to the right. Squeezing her eyes shut, she dropped her head so she wouldn't have to look at the remains. She had a feeling that she should know the identity of that person, but trying to remember only increased the pounding in her head. She would make sense of things later.

Once they were on level ground again, Komas picked up the pace. The jostling only added to her discomfort, but fortunately it was short-lived.

When they reached the common area, Komas placed her carefully on the ground and then headed for the only other survivor in sight – a sublieutenant who was frantically working on the only shuttle that was still in one piece. The two men exchanged a few words and then Komas returned to tell her that he was going to look for survivors.

"Do you believe the shuttle can be repaired," T'Pol asked quietly.

"No." Komas glanced over his shoulder at what appeared to be little more than a burnt-out hull. "But Sublieutenant Krall will keep working as long as there is even a remote chance of success, because our only other option is to leave on foot. That will be difficult if we find others who have been injured."

"Perhaps it would be wise to call for help."

For a split second Komas looked offended. "I have tried repeatedly, but without success."

Apprehensively, T'Pol cast her eyes skyward. What if their assailants returned? Would she and the other survivors be able to fight them off? Probably not. Komas was right. They had to leave this place as quickly as possible.

She reached for her communicator and surprisingly found it still intact. "Find Minister Vaaris." She cleared her throat. She couldn't seem to get rid of the raspy tone in her voice. "I will try to summon help." With a brisk nod of the head, Komas left at a run.

As she cycled through the various frequencies trying to find an open channel, T'Pol took a look around. The devastation was appalling. Of the thirty huts in the settlement, only three remained standing; the others had been reduced to little more than smoldering piles of rubble. The charred scrap metal which lay scattered around the common area was undoubtedly all that remained of the other two shuttles. She couldn't see any bodies, but she knew they were there, probably buried in the rubble.

Since such thoughts were not productive, she bent to her task with a greater sense of urgency. If there were survivors, Komas would find them. But they would all die if she couldn't find a way out of this desolate valley.

Komas returned twice, each time with a badly wounded person slung over his shoulders. On his third trip, he found Vaaris. As Komas walked towards her, the minister cradled in his arms, she noticed that a technician was stumbling along behind the lieutenant; the man appeared to be dazed, but otherwise unhurt.

When T'Pol first saw the minister, she thought that he, too, had perished. His face was pale and motionless when Komas laid him on the ground next to her, but upon closer inspection, she could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His skin and clothes showed no traces of blood, but that didn't make the injuries he'd sustained were any less life-threatening.

"Major Pyk is dead," Komas said tightly, as he knelt beside her. She could see at once that he was struggling to maintain control of his emotions. "He called to me and pointed toward a pile of debris. I was able to free Minister Vaaris, but when I returned to check on the major, he was dead."

"Vaaris is alive because of him," T'Pol said softly. "He died in the performance of his duties."

"He met his death at the hands of cowards."

Before T'Pol could reply, Komas got to his feet and headed off across the common area.

With a growing sense of helplessness, T'Pol looked down at Vaaris. There were no medical supplies. No scanner to assess his condition. No food. No water. She tightened her grip on her communicator. She had to get hold of herself. It was counterproductive to waste time on things which were beyond her control. She would run through the frequencies again. This time maybe she would get a response.

Suddenly, she heard a noise off in the distance. Lifting her eyes, she anxiously searched the horizon. She could just make out one…no, two shuttles headed their way.

They were back. They'd picked up her calls for help and were coming back to finish the job.

Her first thought was to get to her feet; she refused to die quietly here in the dust. As she struggled to rise, she felt a hand grip her right arm. Surprised, she jerked her head around and found herself looking into the terrified eyes of the middle-aged technician who'd followed along behind Komas. With his help, she managed to get to her feet. Now she needed to find a weapon.

Just then, the sound of the shuttles caught her attention. It wasn't the same. The difference was subtle, but it was there. She looked overhead in time to see the shuttles streak past. They were larger – definitely not the same as the two that had attacked the settlement.

"I believe help has arrived," she said to the technician. His response to her observation was surprisingly less than enthusiastic.

When the lead shuttle landed close by and the hatch opened, no one moved. Evidently, the technician was not the only one who had doubts. Sublieutenant Krall and Lieutenant Komas had taken up positions on opposite sides of the common area; both men had their weapons drawn. Finally, a man in the grey uniform of the Ministry of Security stepped through the hatch. He planted his feet, swept his phase rifle slowly back and forth as he surveyed the scene of devastation before him, and then pointed the muzzle toward the ground.

Once some level of trust had been established, things moved quickly. When scans revealed that there were no additional life signs present, Vaaris, T'Pol and Komas were loaded aboard. Immediately after they lifted off, the second shuttle landed and rescued the four remaining survivors.

As soon as they were airborne, T'Pol had the disquieting feeling that she had forgotten something important. She tried to remember what had occurred before they were attacked, but the answer was always just beyond her reach.

Just then, Lieutenant Komas walked over to her and said, "Commander, Minister Vaaris is awake. He is asking for you."

She slowly made her way from her seat to the bench at the rear of the shuttle, where Vaaris lay. The minister's eyes were open, but by the look of his face – his grey complexion, the lines of pain around his eyes – his condition had not improved. He motioned for her to sit on the end of the bench, while Komas activated the soundproof security screen, which could be used to transform the rear of the shuttle into a secure holding cell.

"It is good to see you, T'Pol," Vaaris murmured, as soon as she was seated.

"I am pleased to see you, too," she replied. "I was concerned for your safety."

"As my enemies have discovered, I am a hard man to kill."

"It is regrettable that so many lives have been lost," T'Pol said. "I had hoped that this would be the breakthrough we have been waiting for."

"Instead, we appear to have walked into an ambush." Wincing, Vaaris brought one hand up to rub his chest.

"Koss is dead, Minister," Komas said. "He will not pose a threat to us again."

"We do not know that he betrayed us," T'Pol countered.

"Koss…dead," Vaaris said distractedly. "Herac will not be pleased. He has lost his only son."

"Perhaps this will motivate him to take a more active part in trying to identify the people who are attempting to destabilize our government," T'Pol said.

"It is unfortunate that we will never know what was on those padds," Vaaris sighed. "They might have pointed us in the right direction."

The padds, T'Pol berated herself. She'd forgotten about the padds. How could she have been so careless? She'd had them in her hands, but now...

"Commander T'Pol had the foresight to take them with her before she ran from the hut," Komas said quietly. Leaning over so that he was close to the minister, he reached into his uniform pocket and started to pull out the two padds.

"Put them away," Vaaris said urgently. He tried to raise his head enough to see if any members of the rescue team had been observing them through the transparent screen. "I know Major Pyk personally vouched for every person here, but we must still exercise caution."

"As soon as I return to Shi'Kahr," Komas continued, "I will take them to…"

"No," Vaaris said firmly then clutched at his chest as he began to cough. When he'd recovered sufficiently, he continued: "Take them to Admiral Tamura."

"To a Human?" It was obvious that Komas did not approve of the minister's decision. T'Pol had to admit that she, too, was somewhat taken aback.

"You are badly injured, Minister," she said. "Perhaps this is not the best time to be making such an important decision."

"It must be now. We cannot afford to wait."

"Sir," Komas said stiffly, "I believe that what you are proposing is most unwise. Humans have no business meddling in Vulcan affairs."

"Two days ago a lieutenant in the Ministry of Security tried to blow us up. Today Koss leads us into a trap," Vaaris replied, his voice raspy. "Who among our own people can we trust? Over the past month, I have had to order the arrest of colleagues, teachers, acquaintances – people I've known most of my life – because they were working for the Romulans."

"But…"

"We are at war. We are at war with ourselves and there will be no victors." Intent on making his point, Vaaris struggled to sit up, but his strength failed him and he slumped back down on the bench. "Those padds may contain valuable information. They must not fall into the hands of our enemies. If we cannot trust each other, we must look beyond Vulcan for help. Admiral Tamura is an honorable man. I believe he will help us."

Komas pressed his lips together. He apparently still had his doubts, but he was a man who knew how to follow orders. "I will deliver them to Admiral Tamura personally."

"Good." Vaaris turned to T'Pol. "And I want you to go with him."

T'Pol was momentarily stunned. "You want me to leave Vulcan?"

"Yes, as soon as possible."

"But only yesterday you wanted me to rejoin the Ministry of Security."

"The situation has changed."

"Starfleet has issued an order for my arrest." T'Pol raised a hand to her temple and began to rub in a slow circular motion. This discussion was only making her headache worse. "How I can I continue to search for the truth if I am taken into custody?"

"I would rather have you in custody than in your grave, T'Pol. There are people here who want you dead."

"We don't know that I was a target. The sole purpose of the attack might have been the destruction of the V'tosh ka-tur settlement. We might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Vaaris said, shifting uncomfortable on the bench. "You were not there by chance. Koss specifically asked that you accompany us. He was most insistent."

"But Koss died saving my life. If he knew about the attack, why didn't he get to a place of safety while he still had the chance?"

"I cannot answer that, but the fact still remains that your life is in danger."

When T'Pol started to protest again, he raised his hand, silencing her. "When I spoke to Admiral Tamura earlier today, he told me that two men in Starfleet Security uniforms tried to remove Commander Tucker from the embassy jail last night. They had orders purportedly signed by Admiral Gardner to transfer the commander to the _Shenandoah_ for transport back to Earth. When the guard on duty tried to verify the orders, he was killed."

T'Pol sat up straighter. Trip had said nothing about this.

"Fortunately, the plot was discovered before they were able to release Commander Tucker. One of the men was killed, trying to make his escape; the other was badly wounded." A frown creased his brow. "Both men had green blood."

T'Pol looked at Komas. It was obvious that he was just as surprised as she was.

"This could not have come at a worse time," Komas observed. "Starfleet will no doubt jump to the wrong conclusion."

"They already have," Vaaris replied. "According to the official position, this incident provides conclusive proof that Commander Tucker has been working for the Vulcan government."

T'Pol squeezed her eyes shut. Someone always seemed to be one step ahead of them. "You said one of the men was wounded. Perhaps if he could be questioned…"

Vaaris shook his head. "He died early this morning without regaining consciousness. But all is not lost, T'Pol. Admiral Tamura was called in immediately. He remembered that Soval had performed a mind meld on a man who had been injured in the bombing of the United Earth Embassy, so he asked for Major Luvan's help."

Komas nodded approvingly. "That was most intelligent. Luvan has had extensive training in a wide variety of interrogation techniques, including mind melds."

"But would Starfleet accept information obtained in that way?" T'Pol asked.

"Gardner and Tamura are both willing to be open-minded," Vaaris managed to say before being overcome by a coughing fit.

Komas leaned down to grab the medical scanner, which had been left lying on the bench next to Vaaris, but the minister reached out his hand and stopped him.

"I must finish what I have started," Vaaris wheezed, as soon as the coughing had subsided.

"I only want to check on your condition," Komas replied in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice.

"Later." The minister motioned weakly for him to step back. "This is important."

When Komas had complied with his wishes, Vaaris said, "Luvan discovered that the man was one of our people. The plan was to abduct Commander Tucker, use him to bring you, T'Pol, out into the open, and then turn both of you over to the Romulans. This would eliminate you as potential threats here on Vulcan, and later, with the proper persuasion, you would be expected to provide valuable information to the Empire."

T'Pol took a deep breath while she turned this over in her mind. "In my estimation, their plan stood little chance of success. Starfleet would have tightened security as soon as Commander Tucker was arrested. It's almost as if these men were sacrificed intentionally."

"For what it's worth, Admirals Gardner and Tamura agree with you," Vaaris said. "But just because the attempt failed does not mean that the plan was unsuccessful. Someone was obviously concerned that Commander Tucker might eventually be set free and was determined to do whatever was necessary to keep that from happening. They appear to have accomplished their objective.

"Until we can provide proof of the commander's innocence, Starfleet's official position will remain unchanged. You are in the best position to secure that proof, T'Pol. That is why I want you to go with Lieutenant Komas. If you stay here, there will be more attempts on your life and eventually some assassin will succeed."

"The minister is correct," Komas said matter-of-factly. "The traitors who attacked us today did not intend to leave any survivors. As soon as the firing stopped, one of the shuttles landed. Two people dressed in Fleet uniforms got out and began tracking life signs. My field of vision was limited, but I saw them kill one of the technicians, a badly wounded woman who was unable to defend herself. Judging by the sounds I heard, there were probably others. Since it was my duty to protect you, Commander, I could not reveal my position. There was nothing I could do to help." T'Pol saw the muscles in his jaw tighten, but his facial features remained unchanged.

"They must have received word that reinforcements were on the way because they turned around and returned to their shuttle without searching the areas outside the settlement. I can only assume that they did not think the remaining survivors could be eliminated before help arrived. It was a logical decision on their part. Sublieutenant Krall and I would not have gone quietly."

"Could you identify them?" T'Pol asked.

"I only saw one of the clearly, and that was at a distance. I did not know him, but I will recognize him if we ever meet again."

"Unfortunately, there is more," Vaaris said weakly. "The mind meld may have revealed something far more disturbing than the attempted abduction of Commander Tucker. The injured man firmly believed that his assignment was the beginning of reunification."

"Reunificiation?" T'Pol was all too aware of the internal strife that was currently tearing Vulcan apart, but she had never seriously considered that reunification was a possibility.

"Yes. He had been told that if he succeeded, someone was prepared to seize control of our government, paving the way for the Romulans to return in triumph."

"If this man was considered expendable, why would he be entrusted with such sensitive information?" Komas scoffed. "Perhaps reunification was only mentioned to gain his cooperation."

"What you say may be true," Vaaris said, "but I do not think we can afford to simply dismiss this."

"Did Luvan discover when this is supposed to take place?" T'Pol asked.

"No, but given today's occurrences, we may not have long to wait."

"I will contact Soval," T'Pol said. "He can alert the members of the High Council to the potential danger."

"You realize, of course, that if a coup is imminent, the ambassador will no doubt be warning the perpetrators as well as their potential victims," Komas said.

"That cannot be helped." T'Pol closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on removing the sharp tone from her voice. When she opened them again, she said, "For all we know, assassination may be the traditional method for gaining power in the Romulan Empire. They have certainly tried it before here on Vulcan. We cannot risk condemning innocent people to death simply because we don't wish to alert a traitor."

Komas studied her face as though attempting to measure her resolve. Finally he said, "As soon as we are done here, I will see that round-the-clock protection is provided for all members of the High Council."

"Perhaps they will rethink their plans, if they know we have been warned in advance." T'Pol pressed her lips together. "This might buy us a little time."

"T'Pol, you are the only direct link Vulcan has to Starfleet," Vaaris said. "Even with Komas as your bodyguard, I do not believe that you will be safe as long as you remain on Vulcan."

Out of the corner of her eye, T'Pol saw Komas stiffen. He obviously did not agree with Vaaris' assessment of his abilities.

"Admiral Tamura has offered to protect you," Vaaris continued. "Take the padds to him. Find the truth. You may be our only hope."

T'Pol sighed inwardly. How could she say no? Vaaris' condition was worsening. Even if he lived, he would be in no position to do what needed to be done for quite some time. Soval and V'Lar had their hands full trying to keep the members of the Coalition from severing their ties with Vulcan. Torok was not available. Who else could she trust? This time she would have to shoulder the burden.

"I will do as you ask."

With that, Vaaris seemed to relax. Closing his eyes, he said, "I am tired. I would like to rest now."

Without further comment, T'Pol rose. As soon as Komas deactivated the security screen, she slowly returned to her seat, stopping on the way only long enough to tell a member of the security team that the minister was still alive but probably would not be for long unless he received immediate medical attention. The man informed her that they were only six minutes from their destination, then he went to monitor Vaaris' condition.

She hadn't been seated long before Komas took the seat next to her. He quietly told her that he would obtain transportation for them and handed her a small communicator that Vaaris had recently entrusted to him.

As soon as she was alone, T'Pol flipped open the communicator and searched until she found the link that would put her in direct communication with Admiral Tamura. She had given her word to Vaaris that she would leave Vulcan immediately, and she intended to honor that pledge.

Staring out the front viewport, Vaaris' communicator clasped firmly in her hands, T'Pol finally allowed herself to focus on Trip for the first time since the attack. She could tell that he was worried about her, but at least he knew she was still alive. It was unfortunate that she had no time to meditate. She would have liked to confide in him. So much had happened; so much had changed. But even without meditation, she could feel his presence in every fiber of her being. His strength was her strength. No matter how difficult the problems she faced, she would never be alone. He would gladly share her burdens for as long as he lived.

It was fortuitous that Trip had been transferred to _Warsaw_ earlier in the day. She would need his assistance. Now all she had to do was find a way to convince Admiral Tamura that it would be in Starfleet's best interests to allow her to see her mate. She didn't expect this to be easy, given the present circumstances, but she could not afford to fail. She was fighting for more than just her freedom and Trip's…she was fighting for Vulcan and the freedom of her entire people.

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** I want to thank Guitarman222, SavanaSahara, Mary, Steelchaser, and Ezinma88 for their encouragement; they got me back into writing again. I apologize for the unintended hiatus for this story. Problems with real life and a case a writer's block took a real toll.

My sincere thanks to everyone for their reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. Once again, he's pointed me in the right direction.

CHAPTER 15: TRIP

Thirty minutes. He'd been sitting here for thirty minutes.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Trip checked the chronometer on the wall.

No, he was wrong. Thirty-seven minutes!

Over half an hour sliced from his life and absolutely NOTHING!

Not a single word had been said since he'd entered the conference room and some flunky from Starfleet Intelligence had told him to be seated. The only sound that broke the silence was the barely perceptible thrum of _Warsaw's_ impulse engine.

Trip dug his fingertips into both thighs, willing himself to keep his frustration in check, but it was no easy task. His world was falling apart, but did anybody give a damn? No. He just had to sit here – helpless – and take it.

Grudgingly, Trip returned his full attention to Admiral Tamura, who was seated across from him. The other six chairs around the circular black metal table remained unoccupied – even the guards had left the room. Unfortunately, Tamura, back ramrod straight, hands folded on the table in front of him, just stared back at Tucker with a bland look that revealed nothing.

Trip wanted to ask what was going on, why he'd been brought here, but the admiral liked to play games, and he refused to give Tamura the satisfaction of knowing that he could be manipulated. If the situation called for it – and this one sure as hell did – he could be just as inscrutable as the man sitting across from him. Spending time with Vulcans had taught him that, if nothing else.

He was only too well aware of the failed attempt to remove him from the embassy. Maybe that's what this was all about. It would be just his luck if the mental giants at Starfleet had decided that his Vulcan buddies had tried to rescue him. That would probably be all it would take to pound the final nail into his coffin.

There would be a court-martial, of course. And a long prison sentence. He would be branded as a traitor and spy; his name would be vilified, his reputation destroyed. There would be no satisfying life with T'Pol…no little Tuckers…no honorable Starfleet career, full of accomplishment…no more grand adventures…everything gone. Gone!

Trip closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel the cold specter of depression pressing in on him, but this time he knew his enemy; he would not be caught unawares again.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Tamura watching him closely. He had to be more careful – no more feeling sorry for himself. The smart thing to do was to focus on something positive. He stifled a sigh. Too bad his options had been reduced to practically nil.

Surely there was something.

He struggled for moment, sifting mentally through various options. Well…his hands and feet weren't shackled this time. That was an improvement. The food was halfway decent – "halfway" being the optimum word. Tamura, Archer, and Gardner finally knew the truth about the Vulcans and the Romulans. That was positive, or at least he hoped it was. Maybe now they could understand the pressure he'd been under, the hard choices he'd had to make. If they were finally beginning to grasp the magnitude of the threat the Romulans posed and the shaky status of the Vulcan government, then any sacrifice he'd have to make would be worth it.

But…what if he'd been wrong? What if he'd gone about things the wrong way? Maybe he'd been naïve to try to keep the Vulcans' secrets. He was an engineer; he didn't know the first thing about interstellar intrigue. Maybe if he'd gone to Captain Archer when this all began and laid it out for him, tried to explain….

No.

He refused to start second-guessing himself now. He'd done what he thought was right. Now he had to accept the consequences.

Consequences that should apply only to him – not T'Pol.

Trip pressed his lips firmly together as he tried to fight off a growing sense of unease. As if things weren't bad enough already, he could feel T'Pol's presence growing closer. What in the hell was she doing? He thought she was safe, away from Starfleet and this massive pile of shit he'd stumbled into. In frustration, he started to raise his hands but, thinking better of it, he folded them tightly in his lap. Tamura would like nothing better than to see him nervously running his fingers through his hair. Trip might not know all the rules to this game, but he wasn't totally clueless, either.

Outwardly his features remained immobile, but internally the pressure was building. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that T'Pol's actions were somehow his fault. He'd tried to carefully screen his thoughts, to keep the knowledge of the aborted jail break from her, but what if he hadn't been successful? What if concern for him had driven T'Pol to leave her sanctuary? He'd tried repeatedly to relax so that he could warn her off, but it wasn't working. Either he wasn't sending or she wasn't receiving. _Damn woman_, he thought, _it would be just like her to be screening her thoughts_. There were times when this bond sure as hell wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Suddenly the door slid open. Admiral Gardner walked in and gave Tamura a brisk nod before taking a seat at the table.

"The shuttle's docking now," Gardner said to Tamura. "This will have to be quick. As you know, the Andorians appear to be escalating matters."

"I'm monitoring the situation."

"I never doubted that for a minute," Gardner replied.

The Andorians? Trip's eyes grew wide. Is that what this was all about? T'Pol was sacrificing her freedom for…the Andorians? He gave his head a barely perceptible shake. Nope, that wasn't very likely. She was too smart to get sucked into any mess started by the blue guys. Something else must be behind all this.

"I've made arrangements to sequester Commander T'Pol's bodyguard, if he attempts to come aboard with her." Tamura pursed his lips. "We may be able to use him at some future time, but for now, he has no place at this table."

"Agreed," Gardner said. "I assume you're referring to Lieutenant Komas?"

"Yes."

"I'm surprised a member of the Vulcan Security Directorate would willingly allow himself to fall into our hands."

"Komas is a linear thinker. He was assigned a specific task: protect T'Pol. Therefore, he feels duty-bound to carry out that task regardless of any change in their present circumstances. He will attempt to remain with her until he is relieved."

"A typical Vulcan," Gardner added with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

For a split second a look of annoyance crossed Tamura's face; if Trip had blinked he would have missed it. "There is no such thing as a typical Vulcan. You know that, as well as I do, Admiral. They are as unique in their own way as Humans. The only time we'll be truly vulnerable is the day we think we have them all figured out."

"Point taken." Gardner scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. "You'll have to forgive me. Normally I wouldn't generalize, but I've just spent twenty minutes trying to talk some sense into Admiral Kiran."

Trip's eyes bounced back and forth from one admiral to another as he struggled to keep his escalating concern for T'Pol in check. As much as he appreciated an update on what was happening outside the tiny cell he now called home, this wasn't getting him any closer to an answer on why he was here. Was he nothing more than a tethered kid set out to trap T'Pol?

"Given the present circumstances," Tamura said, "I doubt that anyone could prevent Kiran from acting precipitously. He is determined to defend his planet."

"I tried to tell him that we have no conclusive proof that the Andorians are preparing to attack, but I could've saved my breath. From the moment Starfleet passed along Captain Hernandez's information on the approaching Andorian squadron, he's been focused on only one thing - attack. He's one stubborn SOB."

"Our scans indicate that eight Vulcan ships are headed for Andoria."

"That fits with the hints Kiran dropped: eight en route with more set to launch at a moment's notice. They're also in the process of setting up a defensive perimeter around the planet, and they've alerted all their outposts. I offered Starfleet's assistance, but…." Gardner shrugged.

"At least we have _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_ strategically placed to provide us with a steady stream of information."

"Yeah, it looks like we've finally caught a break. Archer and Hernandez are the best we've got."

"I have every confidence in their abilities, but we must still keep a tight rein on the situation. For all we know, the Romulans could be behind this. We can't afford to get caught up in someone else's war."

"I've placed our ships on alert with orders not to engage unless fired upon. _Invincible_, _Xerxes_ and _Trafalgar_ are the closest ships available; I've dispatched them to support _Enterprise_. It's not much – it will take them at least four days to get anywhere close to _Enterprise_ – but that's the best we can do for now."

This was all very interesting, but Trip was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. She was so close. His hands clenched together even more tightly, until he thought his bones would break from the pressure. He was a man torn between a need to keep his mate from harm and his unquenchable desire to see her once again, to catch a whiff of her special scent, to hear her voice and feel the touch of her hand. He gritted his teeth as he fought to keep things in perspective. What he wanted wasn't important; he had to think of what was best for her. She shouldn't be here!

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to fight for her. She was his chosen mate; it was his duty to protect her. They could fight their way out together – just the two of them against the entire universe. Nothing could stop them as long as they were together.

In a flash the words, "Not logical," popped into his mind, dashing his ardor as surely as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Sighing, he realized that T'Pol was back in the communication business. And this time she was probably right. His harebrained scheme didn't seem likely to succeed – dramatic, yes, but not too practical. In fact, there was a better than even chance that they would both end up dead. And T'Pol's death was something he refused to contemplate. If he truly wanted to protect her, what choice did he have but to accept what little he was being given? His time with her might only be measured in minutes or hours, but that would have to be enough – perhaps enough to last a lifetime.

Admiral Gardner was still speaking, but the words no longer registered with Trip. He was desperately trying to channel all his energy into warning T'Pol to run while she still had the chance. Why wouldn't she listen to him? He gritted his teeth as his head spun around to face the door. A heartbeat later the door slid open and there she was. She was so beautiful that he found it hard to catch his breath, but by now he knew better than to let what he was feeling show on his face.

After calmly greeting Admirals Gardner and Tamura, T'Pol walked around to the far side of the table. With more self-control than he thought he possessed, Trip got to his feet and held her chair while she was seated. When she turned her head and looked up at Trip, their eyes met and held. "Thank you, Commander."

"You're welcome," he replied, doing his best to keep his voice from breaking. He took a deep breath, taking in her scent, and allowed the fingers of one hand to brush lightly against her sleeve. It was all done in an instant and, to Trip's way of thinking, seemed totally natural. At least now he knew that T'Pol had come of her own volition and firmly believed that her presence here was necessary.

"Sit down, Tucker," Gardner said sharply.

So much for communing with his wife. Trip walked over to his chair and sat down. Given his current situation, it wasn't smart to buck the higher-ups.

"I believe you have something for me, Commander T'Pol," Tamura said.

"I trust our agreement is still in place," she replied.

Trip snapped to attention. "Agreement? What agreement?" His head swiveled back and forth, but no answer was forthcoming. The admirals had their attention focused squarely on T'Pol, and she had evidently decided not to clue him in on what was going on. _This is just great_, Trip huffed inwardly. _I'm getting real tired of being ignored_.

Gardner sat back in his chair and stared intently at T'Pol. "Admiral Tamura thinks we should accept your conditions, and I'm willing to go along with him on this. But I want it clearly understood that your request is highly unusual, to say the least."

"What request?" Trip's asked, his voice rising in frustration. What kind of promises had T'Pol been making while he was stuck in jail?

"Like you, we want to resolve this situation as quickly as possible," Gardner continued, ignoring Trip's outburst. "We have other more pressing matters to attend to. Now if you have something for us, Commander, I suggest you produce it."

T'Pol reached into a pocket of her purple Starfleet uniform and brought out the two PADDs she'd taken from the abandoned V'tosh ka-tur settlement. She cast a sideways glance at Trip before sliding the PADDs across the table to Admiral Tamura.

Tamura picked them up and inspected them, turning them over in his hands. "How is Minister Vaaris?" he asked.

"His injuries were serious but he will live," T'Pol replied.

"Good. He is a valued colleague."

"What happened to Vaaris?" This time Trip was determined to get an answer to his question. He could feel his wife's growing apprehension; she was definitely hiding something from him. When T'Pol cast a warning glance in the general direction of the two admirals, Trip ignored her; it was about time he stood his ground. He was sick and tired of trying to be a good little Vulcan. There were enough pent up emotions churning inside him now to power a small city for a year. Just this once he'd like to regain a little control over his own life. "Answer me, T'Pol," he said sharply.

From the look T'Pol gave him, Trip knew she understood why he was pressing her for information, but she thought his timing was ill-advised. Well, that was too damn bad. He was tired of being jerked around like a cheap puppet on a rubber string. He had to take it from Archer and the admirals and Starfleet and the Vulcans and the whole damn universe, but he sure as hell didn't have to take it from his own wife.

When it became apparent that Trip wouldn't back down, T'Pol said, "Minister Vaaris was wounded by the people we've been seeking: those who are determined to overthrow our government."

"You were with him at the time, weren't you? You were attacked."

"Yes, but as you can see, I am uninjured." When he started to protest, she cut him off: "The PADDs I gave Admiral Tamura were recovered at an abandoned settlement in the L-langon Mountains. There is strong evidence to suggest that this site was the reception point for the illicit transmissions from _Enterprise_."

"Are you sure?" Trip's anger slowly began to dissolve; in its place, a tiny ember of hope sprang to life. If this was true, it could be the break they'd been waiting for.

"No," T'Pol replied. "That is why I am here. Minister Vaaris asked me to deliver the PADDs to Admiral Tamura." She shifted slightly in her chair. "As you know, the situation on our planet has made it difficult to know whom we can trust."

"So you agreed to give yourself up in exchange for Starfleet's help?"

"Yes."

"The needs of the many?"

"The need to discover the truth," T'Pol said softly. She placed one hand gently on the table and extended her fingers ever so slightly towards him. "I, too, am tired of living under a cloud."

Trip wanted to reach out and cover T'Pol's hand with his own, but he didn't dare. They still had a secret which must be kept. He'd been so lost without her, so lonely, as though an essential part of him was missing. Their time spent in the bond had lessened the ache in his heart, but it was still always there. If only he could spend a few minutes alone with…

"Arrmm." The sound of Admiral Gardner clearing his throat brought Trip rudely back to reality. Thoughts of T'Pol would have to wait.

"I think it's time we get down to business, Commander Tucker," the admiral said.

Trip squared his shoulders and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Aye, sir."

"We have a lot of work to do."

"Sir?"

"This time there's no 'get out of jail free' card," Gardner said. "You're going to have to cooperate with us fully if we're going to find a way to prove your innocence."

Trip cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow. "What?"

"You heard what I said. It's not going to be easy to convince people that you're innocent."

"Let me get this straight," Trip said incredulously. "After all of this…" He grabbed the front of his grey prison uniform with both hands. "After treating me like public enemy number one…calling me a liar…accusing me of all sorts of terrible…"

"Watch it, Commander," Gardner said sharply. "You're already in enough trouble without looking for more."

Tamura rapped the knuckles of one hand on the table, halting any further comments. "You have every right to be upset, Mr. Tucker, but anger will accomplish nothing. Why don't you wait to hear what we have to say before passing judgment?"

Trip bit his lip as he tried to hold back the flood of angry words that were poised on the tip of his tongue. As much as he hated to admit it, Tamura was probably right. If he made a scene, he might destroy any chance he had to gain the admirals' support. And he wanted their support. He wanted his life back.

Taking a deep breath, Trip said, "All right, but I just find it hard to believe that you suddenly think I'm innocent."

"A great deal has changed since you were arrested," Tamura said. "A surprising number of people, both Human and Vulcan, have been working diligently on your behalf."

Trip shook his head in an attempt to clear his befuddled brain. Any minute now he knew he was going to wake up in his cell and this would all turn out to be nothing but a dream.

"But you aren't in the clear yet. Admiral Gardner and I may believe in your innocence, but we still have to convince the Judge Advocate General. Fortunately some new information has come to light," Tamura said as the fingers of his right hand slipped below the edge of the tabletop. "Look behind you, Commander."

Trip looked from Tamura to Gardner, searching their faces for any hints of deception. For all he knew, there could be a firing squad lined up behind him, phase pistols set to kill. Only yesterday they'd had him all but convicted and packed off to a life of penal servitude…or worse. Now, they were trying to tell him that they thought he was innocent.

Oh well, he might as well get it over with.

Trip turned around in his chair and found himself staring at the larger-than-life features of Malcolm Reed. The back wall of the conference room had been transformed into a floor-to-ceiling viewscreen. He immediately noticed the third pip on Malcolm's uniform. It was nice to know that at least someone's career was on the rise.

"I thought you'd be interested in seeing this report I received from Lieutenant Commander Reed," Tamura said.

On the viewscreen, Reed glanced at the PADD in his hand and then began to speak, "Lieutenant Commander Hess and several of her engineers…"

_Her engineers_, Trip thought ruefully_. It wasn't so long ago that they were MY engineers. _

"…tore apart the bulkhead in Commander Kelby's quarters – the one with the concealed compartment. With the able assistance of Doctor Phlox, we carefully checked every scrap of metal millimeter by millimeter. Finally our efforts paid off. The doctor found minute traces of a third person's DNA. Our records indicate that it belongs to a MACO, Corporal Rodrick Ryan." Ryan's picture and service record appeared along the right side of the viewscreen.

Trip exchanged a surprised look with T'Pol. Ryan had come aboard with the original MACO contingent before _Enterprise_ left for the Expanse. He'd been efficient, focused and highly trained, just like all the MACOs.

"Unfortunately Ryan was rotated back to Earth three weeks ago. I notified Starfleet Security. They should have him in custody by now.

"We questioned the other MACOs. No one ever heard Ryan utter any anti-alien sentiments, but Sergeants Moreno and McKenzie both indicated that he spent quite a bit of his off-duty time with Commander Kelby. According to Moreno, after the Orions tried to take over Enterprise, Kelby went looking for some extra training in hand-to-hand combat; Ryan offered to help. Since Kelby had quite a reputation for overindulging in liquor and games of chance, Ryan knew exactly what it would take to strike up a friendship with him.

"As for Masaro, Ryan was only seen with the ensign on one occasion: Lieutenant Sato saw them having lunch together in the mess hall. It stuck in her mind because Masaro seemed to be upset about something, and three days later he committed suicide."

Trip wearily rubbed a hand over his eyes. What a mess. He knew Kelby, Masaro and Ryan – worked with them on a regular basis – and never suspected a thing. There must have been some signs. Something he missed. He knew Kelby hated him. Over the years there had been other people who disliked him intensely, but they'd never tried to ruin his life. Ryan was a shipmate, nothing more, but Masaro had been a friend. Where had it all gone so wrong? How could he have been so oblivious? He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. How could he ever feel completely safe again with anyone but T'Pol?

"Records indicate that ships from two freight companies have docked with us over the past two years – United Earth Cargo Corporation and Gellen & Associates – in addition to a number of Boomers that had contracts with Starfleet." Squaring his shoulders, Malcolm sat up even straighter. "As you are no doubt well aware, I am on record as opposing the use of commercial cargo ships to resupply _Enterprise_ and other Starfleet vessels in deep space. It makes it increasingly difficult to guard against breaches in security. This is a perfect case in point.

"Following the theft of the commanders' DNA, I installed additional security cameras at various points around the ship; no one else knew the locations, not even the other members of my security staff. Three months ago, one of these cameras in Cargo Bay Two caught Ryan in conversation with the first mate of one of Gellen's vessels. At the time, I didn't think anything of it. It's not uncommon for our people to chat with crewmen from the freighters while they offload our supplies. Besides, they were in a very public place; people were constantly coming and going. Not exactly the ideal choice for a clandestine meeting.

"However, once we'd identified Ryan as a suspect, I reviewed the footage again. When I tried to isolate on their conversation, I discovered they were using a jamming device. Fortunately, it must have been an inferior model because I was able to recover most of the conversation. No mention was made of Commander Tucker or the attempt to incriminate him, but the man did refer to a timetable, influential friends, and a final shipment. When the meeting came to an end, the first mate clapped Ryan on the shoulder and walked out of the cargo bay. I believe that show of comradeship was the method used to transfer the stolen intelligence information via a data patch."

Ryan's service record vanished and in its place appeared a picture of Ryan as he walked through the hatch, leaving the cargo bay. "Using a shot from one of the other surveillance cameras, the patch on Ryan's left shoulder is clearly visible." Malcolm zoomed in on the back of Ryan's left shoulder.

Trip was glad it was clear to Malcolm because he couldn't see a thing. Of course, it didn't help matters that the enlarged picture was rather blurry and the mottled pattern of the MACO uniforms could hide a whole fistful of data patches, as far as Trip was concerned. Suddenly, as if Reed could hear his thoughts, an arrow appeared on the screen, pointing toward a slightly darker spot which didn't quite match the swirled camouflage pattern.

"Data patches are generally considered to be a fairly safe method of covertly transferring information. I've used them myself, on occasion. In keeping with standard operating procedures, I've included copies of all pertinent surveillance footage for further analysis."

Malcolm referred to the PADD in his hand one more time. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. The first mate mentioned the name Spak. I am unfamiliar with it. Perhaps it will mean something to you. I assume it is either the name of a person or an organization."

Putting the PADD aside, Malcolm folded his hands on his desk. "That concludes my report. I hope this new information will be helpful in exonerating Commander Tucker. He is not a traitor. I would stake my life on it."

As the viewscreen went dark, Trip only hoped that someday he'd be given the chance to thank Malcolm face to face. Good friends – friends loyal to a fault – were hard to come by.

"As soon as I received Lieutenant Commander Reed's report," Admiral Tamura said, "Starfleet Intelligence immediately began an investigation of Gellen & Associates. As usual, the agents of Terra Prime have done a poor job of covering their tracks. Several high-ranking members of their organization bought controlling interest in the shipping company two years ago. It was all done through a dummy corporation, but their attempt at deception was amateurish, at best.

"I spoke with the Prime Minister and the Minister of Defense on a secure channel last night. They agreed that preliminary evidence indicated that Gellen & Associates posed a threat to the security of United Earth. After we received the necessary warrants, our agents, working in conjunction with Starfleet Security, raided the offices of the company this morning and seized their records."

"Wise move," Gardner said, "but what about Corporal Ryan? I hope you have him in custody."

Tamura pursed his lips before replying. Trip had the distinct feeling that wasn't a good sign.

"Ryan had one week's leave before he was scheduled to report to Fort Benning for additional anti-terrorist training. He never reported for duty. He is currently listed as AWOL."

"That's just great," Gardner said tensely as he massaged his right temple. "He could be anywhere by now. Do we have any idea what tipped him off?"

"I doubt anything did. His usefulness was at an end, at least as far as this operation was concerned, so he was transferred. He will either be given a new identity and a new assignment, or he will be killed."

"As simple as that."

"Yes."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Trip gave his head a shake. How had he ever gotten mixed up in this sordid business? He was an engineer. Spies, murder and espionage were not a part of his world, nor did he ever want them to be. He could never bring himself to treat killing in such a cavalier fashion. But here he was, stuck right in the middle of an interstellar nightmare that threatened to destroy everything he'd...

"What about Commander Kelby?" T'Pol asked, mercifully breaking into Trip's thoughts. "Is he still alive?"

"Commander Kelby is in our custody," Tamura said. "So far he has revealed little, but we will find a way to make him talk."

Trip swallowed, trying to keep his expression neutral. Physically, Tamura might not look like much, but Trip held few illusions where the admiral was concerned. Kelby was probably going to be on the receiving end of a whole lot more than he'd bargained for. Trip almost felt sorry for him.

Before the admiral could go into more detail, the door opened and Gannet Brooks entered. Without saying a word, she took the seat between Admiral Tamura and T'Pol, then gave Tamura a brisk nod.

Trip didn't know why he was surprised to see Gannet Brooks. Malcolm had told him she was in Starfleet Intelligence. Maybe he just hadn't expected her to be working this closely with Tamura.

Once again, the fingers of the admiral's right hand disappeared beneath the tabletop. _Here we go again_, Trip thought as he turned his attention once more to the viewscreen on the back wall.

As soon as a face appeared on the viewscreen, Trip stiffened. Captain William W. Jaracz, head of Starfleet's Department of Internal Affairs, seemed to be glaring straight at him. Trip had never met the man, but he'd heard about him and seen his picture often enough. Scuttlebutt had it that Jaracz was the most ruthless son of a bitch in Starfleet, and considering some of the SOBs Trip had met over the years, that was quite an accomplishment. With his prematurely white hair, pale blue eyes, chiseled features and rigid bearing, he looked like a massive iceberg lying in wait, ready to sink anything that came too close.

"Have you found Corporal Ryan?" Gardner asked, evidently assuming that introductions weren't necessary.

"No," Jaracz replied. "He checked in when he reached Jupiter Station. We know he boarded a transport to Earth, but that's the last anyone's seen of him. Ryan is a pro. He disappeared without leaving a trace: no family, no home, no personal possessions, nothing."

"What about Commander Kelby?" Gardner asked. "I understand they were supposed to be friends."

"We have, of course, questioned him about Ryan, but so far he insists they barely knew each other. It's only a matter of time, though. Commander Kelby has a submissive personality. He may struggle against those who try to dominate him, but in the end he always knuckles under. If he knows anything, we'll get it out of him."

"And Harry Crawford, the first mate on the Gellen freighter," Tamura said. "Have you located him?"

"According to the Earth Cargo Authority, the Gellen ship, _Lotus_, is currently on its way to Denobula with a cargo of disease-resistant strains of corn and oats. We've tried to contact the freighter, but so far we've received no response."

"I'll alert all ships in the area to be on the lookout for the _Lotus_," Gardner said. "If and when she's sighted, I'll give the order to have her impounded and returned to Earth."

Jaracz nodded. "We'll be ready. It wouldn't surprise me, though, if we discovered that Crawford had conveniently met with some sort of accident. He's just a minor player. There's no reason to keep him around. Too dangerous."

"I understand you have some new information," Tamura said.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Jaracz leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Every time we take a step, the shit just keeps getting deeper."

"Let's have it," Gardner said.

"Corporal Ryan received orders rotating him back to Earth. That much was confirmed by Captain Archer, who signed his transfer papers. When I checked with General Casey, however, he knew nothing about it, even though the transfer orders went out under his adjutant's signature. According to the MACOs, Ryan should still be on _Enterprise_."

"That's impossible," Gardner snapped.

"Ryan was posted to Fort Benning," Tamura said. "Was there some sort of mix-up?"

"No mix-up," Jaracz said. "His transport papers, leave papers, orders to report to Fort Benning were all in order; they just by-passed the usual channels. Casey's adjutant, who supposedly signed the transfer orders, claims he knows nothing about them. We have him in custody, pending a full investigation, but I don't think he's guilty. It took someone with a lot more brain power than he possesses to pull this off. Personnel records at Benning show Ryan was scheduled to report and that he's AWOL, but no arrest warrant has been issued. MACO records everywhere but at Benning still show _Enterprise_ as his duty station."

"It sounds like Earth is in the same boat as Vulcan," Trip said, more to himself than the others in the room.

"Would you care to explain that comment, Commander Tucker?" Jaracz said coldly.

"I…" Trip looked over his shoulder at T'Pol. With a subtle nod, she gave him the go ahead. "Over the years, Vulcan society had been infiltrated by subversives. Things have gotten so bad that no one is sure who to trust. That's why Commander T'Pol is here on _Warsaw_ rather than safely hidden away on Vulcan. It sounds like Earth is headed down the same road, and it's only going to get worse."

"Not on my watch," Jaracz growled, but he began to size Trip up as though he was seeing him for the first time.

"I want Fort Benning put on alert," Tamura said. "We cannot afford to ignore the fact that Ryan might have been sent there for a specific purpose. It's obvious, given the sloppy recordkeeping, that agents are already firmly entrenched there. Flush them out and get them to talk."

"Yes, sir."

"I also want a thorough investigation of the MACOs, including General Casey and his entire staff. We need to know if Ryan was the one bad apple in the barrel or if we have a bigger problem. With their specialized training and their postings in strategic locations, the MACOs could pose a significant threat, if they proved to be disloyal."

Trip didn't want to believe it. The contagion that was slowly bringing Vulcan to its knees had already spread to Earth. What could these men, dedicated though they might be, do that Minister Vaaris, Soval and the other loyal Vulcans hadn't already tried? And what about the Romulans? Were they responsible for this? But Corporal Ryan was no Romulan; Trip would swear to that. So how does he fit into this? And what about Terra Prime?

"I know George Casey," Admiral Gardner said. "George and I have been friends for years. I find it hard to believe that he's a traitor, but…" He paused, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "…but I've been wrong before. Check him out. When you're finished, I want a complete report of your findings." He glanced at Tamura who signaled his agreement.

"I'll see to it," Jaracz said. "This is a bad business, coming on the heels of yesterday's leak."

Once again Trip felt like the red-headed stepchild. What kind of leak were they talking about? Everybody knew what was going on but him.

"Commander Tucker has been kept incommunicado," Tamura said quietly. "Perhaps it would be best, Captain, if you filled him in."

Jaracz leaned forward, resting both forearms on the desk in front of him. "Yesterday, one of the major news agencies broke the story of your arrest. Given the tight security, we must assume that the information was leaked by someone near the top of the food chain. So far we don't have any leads to his identity, but the bastard slipped up somewhere. I'll find him."

Trip was stunned. He knew that news of his arrest had to be made public sooner or later, but somehow he'd hoped that everything could be resolved before it happened.

"The response was pretty much as we expected: demonstrations at the Vulcan compound in San Francisco; calls from Julian Esterle and his Peace Forever fanatics for the systematic deportation of all aliens; a marked rise in xenophobia; and growing opposition to ratification of the Coalition agreement. In short, people want your head on a platter, Tucker. Government officials, community leaders, even ministers from the pulpit are all calling for you to be brought back to Earth immediately to face court-martial. I've even heard talk of reviving the death penalty."

"I don't suppose it makes any difference to them that I'm innocent," Trip said indignantly as he tried to quash thoughts of spending the rest of his life in prison or worse. "I'm not now, nor have I ever been, a damned spy! Those people back on Earth already have me tried and convicted! What am I going to have to do to prove my loyalty to…"

Suddenly the image of his parents popped into his head.

"Shit," he murmured as he buried his face in his hands. He'd hoped they would never have to find out about his arrest. Now that big, ugly cat was sure as hell out of the bag. Not only did they know the worst, but they were probably going to be smack in the middle of a media storm. First Elizabeth's death and now this fiasco. How much more could they take?

"What about my folks?" Trip asked as he dropped his hands and took a deep breath. "Are they OK?"

"We immediately took your family into protective custody. The media vultures were already starting to gather."

"My sister and brother, too?"

"Yes. And your grandparents."

"Thank you," Trip replied, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I…appreciate that."

"I'm afraid there's more, Commander." Jaracz's voice softened, even though his facial features made it clear that he wouldn't think twice about going through a brick wall to get to an opponent in a fight. "Late last night arsonists struck simultaneously at your parent's home and your father's Florida boatyard. Fortunately no one was hurt and the fires were extinguished before too much damage was done."

Trip stared at Jaracz in disbelief. Before too much damage was done! How much worse could it get? It wasn't bad enough that his life was in tatters; now his family wasn't even safe in their own home. All because he'd gotten involved with the Vulcans and their problems.

Just then he felt a hand on his arm. "We will find the ones who are responsible for this," T'Pol whispered when he looked up at her. Casting discretion aside, she had moved over to take the chair next to his. Silently she assured him that together they would explain things to his parents when they were free. He could feel her steadfast spirit tempering his rage and strengthening his resolve.

Trip focused again on the viewscreen. "Do…" He was forced to to stop and clear his throat. "Do you know who did it?"

"We caught the perpetrators," Jaracz said. "They all claimed – rather proudly, I might add – to be members of Terra Prime. Evidently Paxton's followers have had your parents under observation for quite some time." The muscles of the captain's jaw tightened. "Of course, we knew your father's rather vocal denunciation of the organization had made him a prime target – the bombs planted at his boatyard a while back provided ample proof of that – but we thought Terra Prime had moved on to other targets of opportunity. We're carefully…"

"Wait just a damn minute!" Trip bellowed as he jumped to his feet. "Now you're tryin' to tell me that somebody tried to blow up our boatyard! Well, I don't believe it! Dad would have told me!"

"Perhaps your father didn't want you to worry," Tamura said.

Trip whirled around to face the admiral. "He wouldn't have kept something this important from me."

Before the Vulcan-Starfleet maneuvers, he'd contacted his parents and after a long, surprisingly candid conversation, they'd reconciled. They'd talked about T'Pol, baby Elizabeth, Terra Prime and the dangers inherent in his career with Starfleet. His mom had talked about their extended family. His dad had filled him in on the happenings at the family business. Bombs and explosions were never mentioned.

"Obviously he did. Captain Jaracz is correct. Your father contacted Starfleet after the first bomb went off and Starfleet immediately turned the matter over to me. During a thorough sweep of the premises, a team headed by Lieutenant MacElvoy removed four more explosive devices. There were no injuries and only minimal property damage."

"First fires, now bombs! What's next? I know you're just dyin' to tell me. So bring it on," Trip snapped, making a sweeping gesture with one hand. "I can take it."

Tamura studied him closely for a moment. "I don't doubt that, Commander."

Trip took a ragged breath and stood staring at the admiral. He wanted a fight, to feel the satisfaction of driving his fist into somebody's face, not some half-assed compliment. He was tired of feeling so damn helpless. He was tired of letting others stomp all over him while he was forced to do nothing but take it and take it and take it. If only he could…

"Sit down, Commander," Captain Jaracz said firmly from behind him. "There's something else I think you should hear."

"Fine." Trip squeezed his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to calm down. Steeling himself, he plopped down in the chair next to T'Pol, folded his arms over his chest and waited.

"Early this morning Commander Kelby's ex-wife, Gloria, paid me a visit. It seems she's been receiving messages for the past several months, warning her to keep quiet, but when she heard about your arrest, Mr. Tucker, she decided it was time to come forward.

"Evidently Kelby was a lousy husband from day one. A little over a week into the marriage she decided she wanted out, but he wouldn't give her a divorce. Said he needed her. Her solution was to record both his calls and his drunken ramblings. Once she was sure the data disks were in a safe place, she told him about them. Needless to say, she got her divorce."

"Did she mention anything that could be used in Commander Tucker's defense?" T'Pol asked. Her face was perfectly composed, but Trip could sense her anticipation.

"She said Kelby liked to boast that Tucker was too stupid to realize he was being framed. I doubt that will be enough to get him acquitted, but a good defense attorney ought to be able to take it and run."

"I don't suppose Mrs. Kelby would be willing to turn over those disks she'd squirreled away," Gardner said.

"She already has." A feral grin spread over Jaracz's face. "I just had a sneak peek, but there's a good chance we've struck gold. It may be our ticket to putting an end to Terra Prime once and for all. I've got my best people working on the disks. You should have a preliminary report by 2200 tonight."

"And Mrs. Kelby?" Gardner asked.

"She'll remain under our protection until we're sure Terra Prime no longer poses a threat to her. When this is over, I think she'll opt for a new identity and relocation. She doesn't have much family left, and she's sick and tired of being bullied by a bunch of cretins."

"Very good," Tamura said.

"One more thing," Jaracz growled. "Harris has been sniffing around. Keep the bastard out of my hair or Corporal Ryan won't be the only missing person."

"I'll take care of it," Tamura replied.

"Why don't you get rid of him? The man's a menace."

Tamura shook his head. "I'll get rid of him when he's no longer of use to me."

"You're just asking for trouble," Jaracz said with a sour look on his face.

"I want this Terra Prime business wrapped up as soon as possible, Captain," Tamura said brusquely. "Keep us informed. _Warsaw_ out."

The viewscreen disappeared, leaving only the smooth metal wall once again. As Trip turned around in his chair to face Tamura, T'Pol quietly got up and returned to the seat she'd first occupied.

"Now as for you two," Gardner said, pulling a PADD from his uniform pocket and placing it on the table in front of him, "it goes without saying that the best way to prove your innocence is to find the guilty parties, so Admiral Tamura and I have decided to give you the opportunity to do just that." He shoved the PADD along the table towards Trip. "These are your orders temporarily assigning you to Starfleet Intelligence. You will be stationed on _Warsaw_ until further notice."

Trip picked up the PADD and stared at it. The words were all there, but they made about as much sense as if they'd been written in some obscure alien language. Finally he gave up and, rising from his chair, handed the PADD to T'Pol. Her raised eyebrow made it clear that she didn't have any better handle on the situation than he did.

Slowly Trip began to massage his temples, once he was seated again; he was in the early stages of what promised to be one whopper of a headache. "I don't understand any of this," he said. "A few minutes ago, it sounded like you were getting ready to ship me back to Earth to face a court-martial, and now..." He motioned towards the PADD in T'Pol's hands. "I don't think most people would approve of criminals working for Starfleet Intelligence."

"We aren't interested in other people's opinions," Tamura said as he smoothed his hands over the tabletop. "We only care about finding a way out of the current crisis. You're going to help us do that."

"From jail?"

"Leave that to me. Your assignment is to help us uncover the real traitors." Tamura reached across in front of Gannet and handed the two data disks to T'Pol. "The disks you brought with you, Commander, would probably be a good place to start."

"But I don't see how…"

Tamura held up his hand, stopping Trip in mid-sentence. "As soon as we're done here, I will contact the Judge Advocate General. Given the evidence we've collected so far, I think I can persuade him to drop the charges against you."

The sudden relief Trip felt must have shown on his face because Admiral Tamura continued: "You aren't out of the woods yet. Thanks to the information leaked to the news media, many people have already decided you're guilty, regardless of any evidence we could produce to the contrary. If we released you now, people would probably think this was nothing more than a Starfleet cover-up. There's a lot we still don't know, and we need answers." He struck the table with his fist. "Who stole the classified information and passed it along? Who decided to frame you and Commander T'Pol and why? Is the Vulcan government close to collapse? Are the Romulans somehow involved in this mess?"

"And does this have anything to do with the sorry state of our relations with Andoria?" Gardner added, his expression grim. "I'd say you have your work cut out for you."

"I'll see that you're provided with a regulation uniform," Tamura said to Trip. "Then I want you to start immediately." He nodded in Gannet's direction. "I've assigned Lieutenant Brooks to work with you. Since her last posting was at the United Earth Embassy on Vulcan, she will no doubt prove to be a valuable resource."

Trip looked at Gannet warily. Admiral Tamura might think she was the real deal, but, considering her introduction to the crew of _Enterprise_, Trip wasn't too sure about that. After all, she didn't have much of a track record for honesty. Would they be able to trust her? Or would she turn out to be more of a hindrance than a help.

T'Pol gave Trip a warning glance before assuring Tamura that they would welcome Lieutenant Brooks' assistance. Taking the hint, Trip smiled weakly. It was a good thing she was a diplomat or he'd probably be right back in hot water again.

"I believe Lieutenant Komas is still on board," T'Pol said. "Will he be allowed to assist us?"

"Lieutenant Komas has been assigned to quarters in a secure area," Tamura replied. "We obviously cannot give him the run of the ship; however, I am not averse to giving people the chance to use their expertise. When you have a specific proposal, we can discuss it."

"And just how much access will we be given," Trip asked with a distinct edge in his voice.

Admiral Gardner got to his feet. "I think I'll let the three of you work out the details. There's another situation which requires my attention." When he reached the door he turned back to Tamura. "Stay in touch."

When the door swished shut behind Gardner, Tamura pressed a button on the companel on the wall behind his chair. "Tamura to the bridge."

"Captain Jespersen here. Go ahead."

"As soon as Admiral Gardner's shuttle leaves the launch bay, go to maximum warp. You have the coordinates?"

"Aye, sir. Jespersen out."

"Where are we headed?" Trip asked sharply.

"That is not your concern," Tamura replied.

"It is if it prevents us from getting the job done. The only way I'm going to get my life back is to find the bastards who did this to me."

"I concur," T'Pol said. "The farther we travel from Vulcan and Earth, the more difficult our task will become. We are finally beginning to make some progress. We can't afford to lose our momentum now."

"Don't concern yourself," Tamura said. "I have no intention of making your job any more difficult than it already is. We will be returning to Vulcan, but until then, you will have access to all the resources at my disposal. Does that ease your minds?"

Trip narrowed his eyes. He must be missing something. This whole business sounded just a little too good to be true. One minute he's looking at life in prison; the next thing he knows, he a member in good standing of Starfleet Intelligence. There had to be a catch.

"Well?"

"Okay." Trip didn't know what else to say. He didn't relish the thought of returning to the brig.

The admiral turned in Gannet's direction. "Lieutenant, I would like a few words in private with the commanders."

"Yes, sir." Gannet rose and headed for the door. "I'll be waiting outside." With a swish, the door opened then closed behind her.

Tamura folded his arms over his chest. "Now, is there something the two of you would like to tell me?"

"I…don't think so." Trip tilted his head as he tried to figure out what the admiral had in mind.

"One of primary reasons Lieutenant Brooks was posted to the embassy was to keep tabs on both of you. Frankly, some of the things she reported left my staff scratching their heads. With the possible exception of an old married couple, two people – two people who are supposedly just colleagues – generally don't know in advance what the other's going to say or do. The two of you, however, seem to be able to manage that feat on a fairly regular basis. Can you offer an explanation?"

Taken aback, Trip tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. The admiral was just guessing. That had to be it. He just had to play it cool and everything would be all right.

"With all due respect, sir, you must be mistaken. Commander T'Pol may be clairvoyant, but I'm pretty sure I'm not." Grasping at the only straw left to him, he added, "T'Pol and I have spent a lot of time working together over the years. What Lieutenant Brooks observed was probably nothing more than the result of good, solid teamwork. We've learned to anticipate each other's actions."

A smile played at the corners of Tamura's mouth. "You're good, Commander, but I know a lie when I hear it. It's public knowledge that the two of you had an affair. From what I've seen so far, I'd say you're still involved in a relationship. Are you bonded?"

"Bonded?" Trip said lamely. "I'm…afraid I don't know what…"

"Please spare me the display of wide-eyed innocence," Tamura said. "I'm not interested in passing judgment on you. If the two of you are bonded, it will increase your value to me. Now I'll ask you one more time: Are you bonded?"

Trip chewed on his lip as he tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't get them into even deeper trouble. Finally, he looked at T'Pol. With a subtle nod, she expressed her confidence in him. He could only hope that he wouldn't let her down.

"We gave our word that we wouldn't discuss our relationship with anyone." Trip held up both hands reassuringly when the admiral stiffened. "Now just hold on, let me finish. We have the ability to work together far more…efficiently than if T'Pol was Human." Trip took a deep breath. "Does that answer your question?"

"I believe so."

"Do you intend to share your suspicions with Admiral Gardner?" T'Pol asked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Commander, but on Vulcan aren't two people who are bonded considered by some to be a married couple?"

This time it was T'Pol's turn to take a deep breath. "A bond does tend to draw two people together. Humans might perceive that as a form of marriage."

"For the time being, it is to my advantage to keep the two of you together. If there was any hint that you were still in a relationship, let alone married, Starfleet would split you up. So the answer is no, I do not intend to share this information with Admiral Gardner or anyone else." A frown creased Tamura's brow. "Besides, I don't believe the time is right to introduce something as alien as a bond to the people of Earth. It would play right into the hands of the extremist groups."

Trip didn't like the sound of "for the time being," but he wasn't in much of a position to complain. At least it appeared likely that while they worked for Starfleet Intelligence, he and T'Pol could be together. He looked over and saw T'Pol watching him. He smiled and the two of them shared a quiet moment. The people of Earth might not approve of the bond he shared with a Vulcan, but Trip did - unequivocally. He knew his life would be meaningless without her.

"At 0800 tomorrow morning," Tamura said, "I want to see a proposal outlining your plans for the investigation. And don't give me pie in the sky. I'm only interested in realistic recommendations."

"That gives us very little time," T'Pol said, "but we will be ready."

"As soon as we're finished here, Lieutenant Brooks will give you a tour of _Warsaw_, then she'll show you to your quarters. Do you have any questions?"

"I don't suppose that tour will include a look at engineering?" Trip said. "I'd kinda like to keep my hand in."

Tamura paused. "Yes, but only a quick walk-through, for now. The fewer distractions, the better. I want you focused solely on the job at hand – and that does not include the warp engine."

"Aye, sir." Trip stifled a sigh. He'd give a lot to be serving again on _Enterprise_. At least when he was in engineering, he knew what he was doing – unlike his current life as Tucker, Ace of Spies.

"I'm placing my trust in the two of you. Don't prove me wrong." Tamura put both hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Oh, and you should know that the corridor outside your quarters is closely monitored."

"And what about inside our quarters?" Trip bristled. Will I have to wear a towel when I get out of the shower if I don't want to give folks an eyeful?"

"That won't be necessary, Commander." Tamura slowly walked around the end of the table and headed toward the door. "I can assure you that there is no surveillance inside your quarters. Your cabins do, however, have one rather unusual feature: a connecting door – locked, of course, for security purposes. They were once occupied by two scientists who worked very unorthodox hours and felt the need to have constant access to one another. Their eccentricities grew tiresome after awhile and I had them transferred. I hope this won't prove inconvenient for you."

When Trip looked at T'Pol, a corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. Finally, here was a problem that could be handled by an experienced engineer.

"I am sure our quarters will be most adequate," T'Pol said, while silently sharing in her mate's burgeoning optimism.

"If there's nothing else…" With the press of a button, Tamura opened the door and motioned to Lieutenant Brooks.

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** My sincere thanks to everyone for the reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. Once again, his observations have made me stop, think, and reconsider.

CHAPTER 16: COMMANDER BYUM

The door to sickbay slid open and Commander Kevin Byum, _Enterprise's_ lanky first officer, took a quick look around. The lights were set at daytime level even though it was well past 0100, but it looked like no one was home.

"Doctor Phlox?" he called, then instantly thought better of it. What if he was disturbing one of the doctor's sleep cycles? He'd overheard stories about them. If only half of what he heard was true…

Maybe he'd better go.

"Can I be of assistance?"

Byum spun around and saw Phlox walking down the corridor towards him. The doctor's smile was warm and welcoming, but there was also an underlying hint of concern.

"Hi, Doc," Byum said. "I was having trouble sleeping. Too keyed up."

Phlox walked through the doors to sickbay and headed for a tray table next to one of the biobeds. "Perhaps a sedative would help." He quickly scanned the various hyposprays on the tray and, after selecting one, held it up, ready to administer the appropriate dosage.

"Actually…" Byum brought one hand from behind his back. His long, thin fingers were wrapped securely around a small wooden box with hinges on one end. "Lieutenant Sato told me that you play cribbage."

Phlox's smile broadened. "Crewman Cutler taught me years ago. I'm quite fond of the game." He motioned to the right. "Take a seat while I get another chair."

Byum sat down and carefully undid the clasp securing the well-worn walnut box. He then opened it out and, after removing a deck of cards and four pegs, placed the cribbage board right side up on the counter. After placing the pegs in the appropriate holes, he ran a hand over the wooden surface. A long-dead ancestor, Marcus Byum, had first carried the board on D-Day when he landed with units of the First Army on Utah Beach. He'd kept the board safely secured in his pack as he fought his way across France and into Germany until the loss of an arm in the Hurtgen Forest brought an end to his military service. Over the years it had become a family tradition for the cribbage board to be passed down from father to son. To Kevin, it always served as a tangible reminder of the family waiting for him back on Earth.

"Cut for deal?" Byum put the deck of cards on the counter in front of Phlox as the doctor pulled up a chair.

"Go ahead," Phlox said with a wave of his hand. "I'm feeling lucky tonight."

With a crooked smile on his lips, Byum nodded then swiftly shuffled and dealt six cards alternately to Phlox and himself. He had a feeling he was about to be hustled. Those games between the doctor and Crewman Cutler – whoever he or she might be – must have really been something.

As he studied his hand, the doctor said, "Is this the first time you've had trouble sleeping?"

"Yes." Byum took two cards from his hand and put them face down on the counter. "I have a feeling something big is about to happen. I wanted to stay on the bridge, but the captain insisted I get some sleep. I tried, but no luck."

Phlox took two cards from his hand and placed them on top of the two discarded by Byum. "And you'd rather play cards than take a mild sedative and get a few hours sleep?"

"In case there's trouble, I don't want to be drowsy."

The doctor cut the deck and Byum turned over the top card – an eight of diamonds. This was going to be a lousy hand.

"I've never seen action before," Byum continued, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. "I want to be ready."

"And I've seen too much." Phlox looked up and smiled reassuringly. "Captain Archer knows what he's doing. I wouldn't be overly concerned. Not yet, anyway."

Byum shook his head. "I'm not worried. I just don't want to make any mistakes. When I was offered this posting, I jumped at the chance. Time served on _Enterprise_ will keep me on the fast track to promotion. I learned a lot working for Admiral Leonard – met a lot of the right people – but if I want my own ship, I need command experience in deep space."

Phlox tilted his head and looked closely at Byum. "Service in deep space will keep you away from Earth for years at a time. Don't you have a family?"

"Yeah, I do. They're holding down the fort back home."

"And you don't mind being away from them?"

"Of course I mind, but explorers have always been forced to leave their families behind. It goes along with the job."

Byum knew he was saying all the right words, but somehow he'd never been able to rid himself completely of the loneliness and guilt. He wanted to be out here exploring the stars, but he wanted to make love to his wife and watch his kids grow up, too. He wondered how other guys did it – how they managed to juggle their personal lives and service in deep space and still come out winners. Maybe someday he'd figure it out. Then again maybe this was a no-win situation, and those other poor sons of bitches were just as lonely as he was.

"When this job came up," he explained, "my wife Greta and I sat down and talked it out. She understands that I have to do this if I want to get ahead. It's kind of tough on the kids, though."

"Boys or girls?"

"Two of each." Byum held his right hand out and moved it downward as he said, "Stair steps: twelve, eight, five, and one and a half. All blonde like their mother. Would you like to see their picture?" Something told him that the doctor probably wasn't all that interested, but like every proud papa, he really didn't care.

Without waiting for Phlox to respond, he put down his cards and unzipped the pocket on the left front of his uniform. He pulled out a PADD and brought up one of the many pictures he scrolled through every night before he went to bed. After handing the PADD to Phlox, he moved a finger from face to face. "Colin, Inga, Marta, Geoffrey…and, of course, my wife."

"You have a lovely family." Phlox handed the PADD back to him. "I know how difficult it can be to be separated from those you care for. You must miss them very much."

"I do. Leaving them wasn't easy, but…it can't be helped. I've always wanted a career in Starfleet."

"And now you have it." Phlox smiled sympathetically.

"Yeah."

"You are obviously well-suited to your chosen profession." Phlox pointed to the pips on Byum's uniform. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thanks." Byum picked up his cards, looked at them and put them down again. "Someday when I've got my admiral's stripes, I'll be able to settle down on Earth and we can be a family again. I'll make it up to them – for being away. This is my chance. I have to take it."

He knew it was time to think about something else. _Focus on the card game_, he told himself.

They silently finished playing out the hand and counted up the points. Kevin picked up the crib and groaned. A pair. Two stinking points. This hand was worse than lousy.

"I'm not complaining, of course," Phlox said as he gathered the cards and began to shuffle, "but I'm surprised you came to me when you wanted a game of cards. Was everyone else asleep?"

After the cards were dealt, Byum picked up his hand. This was more like it. At least it appeared that the doctor's many accomplishments didn't extend to stacking the deck.

"The other senior officers have made it pretty clear that they want to keep things on a strictly professional basis." Byum discarded two cards for the crib and then cut the deck. Phlox turned up a queen of clubs. "This isn't the first time I've been the new kid on the block – transfers are something Starfleet officers come to expect – so I didn't expect the crew to roll out the red carpet for me," Byum said with a shrug. "But I didn't expect a cold shoulder, either."

"I wouldn't take it personally. The original crew members were forced to band together to survive in the Expanse. Since their return to Earth, I've noticed that they've been very slow to make new friends. But then I believe that's a fairly common tendency for Humans, especially among comrades in arms. Just give them time."

"It just never occurred to me that measuring up to a Vulcan was going to be so difficult."

Phlox chuckled as he began laying down his cards, alternating with Byum. After counting the points, he said, "I had no idea you were being compared to Commander T'Pol, but I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise. Since she is Vulcan, it took members of the crew a long time to warm up to her, but she eventually won them over. She's really quite brilliant…and extremely loyal to her friends."

"Friends? I didn't think Vulcans made friends."

"When dealing with other species, it's never wise to make assumptions." Phlox moved one of his pegs forward. He'd had another good hand. "Individuality is not the sole purview of Humans. Over the years, T'Pol has demonstrated a surprising ability to adapt. Most Vulcans would have been unable to survive on _Enterprise_ for more than a couple of days."

"I suppose you're right." Byum quickly dealt the cards then took a look at his hand. He had to make a conscious effort to keep from smiling. If he turned the right card, the doctor would be eating his dust. _Just play it cool_, he reminded himself.

"I'd like to meet Commander T'Pol sometime," Byum said. "Do you think there's any chance of that?"

After all, who could pass up the chance to meet "Wonder Woman"?

"When her current…difficulties have been resolved," Phlox said, "I'm sure she would be willing to meet with you."

After the doctor cut the deck, Byum turned the top card. Bingo! A five of clubs. If he'd hand-picked a card, it couldn't have been any better.

"Given their close relationship with Captain Archer and their many friends on _Enterprise_, I'm sure Commanders T'Pol and Tucker will be paying us a visit. And it may be even sooner than we expected, if Mr. Reed's subtle hints are correct."

"No kidding." Byum wasn't too sure he liked the sound of that. T'Pol's speedy return certainly didn't fit in with his plans. He figured he'd have some time to solidify his position on _Enterprise_ before she put in an appearance.

"I don't suppose she'll want to transfer back to _Enterprise_?" he said warily as he put two cards aside for the crib.

"Anything is possible." Phlox smiled as he added his two cards to Byum's.

Damn. That smile was just a little too smug. It would be just his luck if the doctor had a hand every bit as good as his. Or maybe Phlox was just yanking his chain. As he took another look at his hand, he wondered idly if Denobulans resorted to such devious tactics.

Suddenly the sound of the comm interrupted his train of thought.

"All hand report to battle stations! Repeat, all hands to battle stations! This is not a drill!"

Byum tossed his cards down and jumped to his feet, all thoughts of T'Pol or a big hand instantly forgotten. As he bolted for the sickbay door, he heard Phlox shout, "Be careful!" Giving a quick wave of his hand, he ran through the door, headed for the bridge. As he hurried along the corridor and into the turbolift, he dodged crewman, some of whom were still slipping arms into the sleeves of their uniforms or pulling up zippers.

As soon as the turbolift doors opened, he took a quick look around and spotted the captain in the situation room, deep in conversation with Reed, Sato and Mayweather. He was surprised to see Torok, the Vulcan High Priest, standing off to one side, listening intently. Byum had barely reached the table in the situation room when he heard the turbolift open again and Hess joined them.

With everyone in place, Archer cleared his throat and looked pointedly at each person around the table, as if he wanted to impress upon them the gravity of the situation.

"If we aren't careful," he said quietly, "we could find ourselves in the middle of a war before the day is out." He pointed to the tactical display on the table in front of him. "The Andorians have just changed course. At current speed, they'll be on top of us in…" He looked at Mayweather.

"16 minutes, sir."

Archer gave a brisk nod of the head and jabbed his finger at the display again. "To make matters worse, eight Vulcan battle cruisers are headed straight for our stern at high warp, and a half a dozen more..." He quickly pointed out the scattered locations of the six incoming ships. "…are now on intercept courses. Starfleet has informed us that Admiral Kiran is in command of the Vulcan fleet, and he's spoiling for a fight."

Byum took a closer look at the display. Archer wasn't exaggerating the potential danger they were in. Damn, he knew he should have stayed on the bridge. He should have been monitoring this situation instead of playing cribbage with Phlox. Next time he wouldn't let Archer dismiss him so easily.

"Do we have backup?" he asked.

"_Invincible_, _Xerxes_ and _Trafalgar_ are on their way to us," Archer replied, "but it will take them at least three days to reach our current position. _Columbia_ is closer, but nowhere near close enough to do more than provide moral support. We're on our own."

"Great," Byum muttered.

"Hoshi," Archer said, "have you been able to make contact with either the Andorians or the Vulcans?"

Hoshi leaned forward and looked around Malcolm, trying to catch the eye of Ensign Kousari, who was seated at the communication station. When she called to him, he immediately looked Hoshi's way and shook his head.

"No, sir," Hoshi replied. "We're still trying."

"Keep at it."

"Are we authorized to open fire, if necessary?" Reed asked. "Or does Starfleet expect us to remain neutral at all cost?"

"Admiral Gardner has authorized me to use my best judgment. We don't want to get dragged into this mess, if we can avoid it, but I also have no intention of standing idly by while our 'friends' shoot holes in _Enterprise_. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm replied, with an unmistakable look of relief on his face.

"With eight battle cruisers, the Vulcans will have the Andorians outgunned if they attack before the last three Andorian ships join up with the main body," Byum observed. "If those slower Andorian vessels are troop ships, we could have a bloodbath on our hands."

"I know," Archer said, "but we can only do so much. The Andorians should know better than to go up against the Vulcans without adequate firepower."

"Could this only be part of a larger plan?" Hoshi said. "Maybe the Andorians are trying to draw the Vulcans into some kind of trap."

"I suppose it's possible," Reed said thoughtfully. "Or this might be nothing more than a sham. By sacrificing a few obsolete vessels, the Andorians could be giving their Romulan allies a chance to observe current Vulcan battle tactics. Perhaps that's the purpose of the three trailing ships; they'll enable the Romulans to hang back and watch."

Head down, Archer braced his hands against the table and leaned forward. "Speculation will get us nowhere. Our job is to find a way to defuse this situation. In order to do that, we're going to need a little cooperation." He raised his head and focused on the High Priest. "Will Admiral Kiran listen to reason?"

Torok took a moment to collect his thoughts then slowly walked over to the table to join Archer and the others. "It would be unfair of me to give you false hope. At the best of times, Kiran is known to be headstrong. He becomes even more obdurate when he believes he is defending Vulcan."

That was obviously not what the captain wanted to here. As he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, he asked, "Would you be willing to talk to the admiral if we're finally able to make contact?"

"Of course, but I make no promises. It is unfortunate that Commander Tucker is not here. He is one of only a handful of people who is able to exert any influence over Kiran."

Byum blinked. He'd heard about this guy Tucker. Maybe there really was something to the rumors that he was in bed – both literally and figuratively – with the Vulcans. It was hard to believe that any Vulcan, let alone a fleet admiral and a member of the High Council, would give two hoots what a lowly Human had to say unless there was a little quid pro quo going on. The people around this table were supposedly Tucker's friends; they trusted him…and T'Pol. But maybe they'd all been sold a bill of good. Byum had seen and heard enough to know that Tucker was under investigation for passing information to the Vulcans. Now it looked like his buddies were trying to start a war that could spread throughout the entire quadrant.

Byum suddenly felt the urge to contact his family, to tell them to run. But he knew there was no place for them to go. Nowhere was safe. He'd seen what the Xindi had done to Earth. Gritting his teeth, he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to see that such devastation never happened again.

Archer frowned at Torok. "Since Trip isn't here, I'm afraid we'll just have to depend on you to get the job done."

"Sir," Reed said suddenly, "one of the Andorian battle cruisers has increased speed." He pointed to the display in front of them. "It's breaking away from the others and heading straight for _Enterprise_."

"Travis, how long do we have before we make contact?" Archer asked.

Mayweather did some quick mental calculations before answering, "About four minutes."

"And the Vulcans?"

Travis glanced at the PADD which was lying on the table in front of him. "Twenty minutes…maybe less."

"Captain!" Ensign Kousari exclaimed suddenly. "I've made contact with the Andorians."

"Put it on the viewscreen."

"Aye, sir."

As Archer stepped down to the bridge, a familiar blue face appeared on the viewscreen.

"I might have known," Archer growled. "If there's trouble with the Andorians, I can depend on you to be smack in the middle of it."

"This is no time for jokes, pinkskin," Shran replied.

"I wasn't joking."

Shran pointed a finger at Archer and snapped, "You owe me, Archer, several times over. Now it's time to settle our account."

"Why are you heading toward Vulcan?" Archer folded his arms over his chest. "Has Andoria declared war?"

"Not yet. That's why I came looking for you – to try to find a way out of this insanity. The people with me are prepared to do whatever they can to help."

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that you're rebels?"

"Patriots!" Shran glared back at him. "Now do you want to hear what we have to say or don't you?"

"I'll hear you out," Archer said, "but right now there are eight Vulcan battle cruisers headed our way – and that's just the first wave. I think they take precedence."

"Until this is settled, we're placing ourselves under your protection."

Archer shook his head incredulously. "Obviously arithmetic isn't your strong suit." He made a fist and thrust a rigid index finger into the air. "I have ONE ship. _Enterprise_ is Starfleet's best, but she's no match for a fleet of D'Kyr and Suurok-class starships. What makes you think I can stop the Vulcans from blowing you all straight to hell?"

"You've talked your way out of worse situations in the past."

"When?"

"Just do what you can," Shran snapped. "We want peace, but we will not allow ourselves to be fired upon without a fight. The future rests in your hands."

"Don't try to dump the responsibility for this on me. You're the…"

"Perhaps I can be of assistance." Torok stepped forward, taking a place next to Archer. "I am Torok, High Priest of Vulcan. And you are?"

The Andorian stared warily at the Vulcan. "My name is Commander Thy'lek Shran of the Imperial Guard."

"Torok, this really isn't a good time…," Archer began.

The High Priest raised a hand, halting Archer in mid-sentence. "I believe I have a solution to your problem, Captain. Words may not be enough to deter Admiral Kiran, but my presence on the Andorian ship will force him to think carefully before he takes action."

Archer shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not."

"Don't dismiss my proposal so cavalierly. It may offer the best chance the Andorians have to avoid annihilation."

"Annihilation!" Shran bristled. "Andorians do not die so easily." His eyes quickly narrowed. "Besides…why would a Vulcan want to help us?"

"It is my understanding that you played a role in removing the dangerous alien presence from the Expanse. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Then Vulcan is in your debt. I am ready to render payment."

Archer signaled to Hoshi, who had returned to the communication station, and she cut the transmission.

"Your intentions may be good," Archer said to Torok, "but you have no idea what you might be walking into. My guess is that you'll be taken hostage as soon as you step aboard the Andorian ship, and there will be nothing I can to do to help you. This is a bad idea."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that it is unnecessary. I do not believe the Andorians will act in bad faith. It would be in their best interests to keep me alive as a bargaining tool. And if I'm wrong, I've lived a long, full life. There are worse ways to die than trying to secure peace."

"All your death would accomplish is to give the Vulcans a rallying cry when they declare war. I'll say it again: This is a bad idea."

"Do you have a better plan?"

Archer turned and walked over to the tactical station where Byum was standing across the console from Reed. After a cursory glance at his first officer, he focused his attention firmly on Reed.

"Recommendations?" Archer asked quietly. "Give me something… anything."

Malcolm shifted restlessly in his seat before saying, "I'm afraid I don't have any tricks up my sleeve, sir. Our scans indicate that the four slower vessels the Andorians have in tow are little more than cargo ships. According to information in the Vulcan database, their weaponry appears to be substandard, at best."

"They'll be no help," Byum murmured. "At least the Andorians have eight fighting ships to provide some protection for them."

"Five, actually. The three trailing ships have just turned tail. Given their course, I'd say they're headed back to Andoria."

"Leaving us holding the bag," Archer said tightly. "If the Vulcans attack and the Andorians fight back, we've got a war on our hands. If the Andorians don't fight back, they'll be slaughtered because there's no way we can adequately protect nine ships."

"And maybe this guy Shran is feeding us a line of bull," Byum said. "If the Andorians really want a war, this is the perfect setup. An Andorian fleet heads for Vulcan, provoking a response; the Andorians feed us a line and ask for our protection; the Vulcans attack in an attempt to protect home and hearth. Result: the Andorians declare war; Earth is dragged into the fight on the Andorian side, especially if _Enterprise_ is damaged or destroyed; Vulcan is isolated; and the Romulans hit the jackpot – a wide open quadrant just waiting for them."

"It...is possible, sir," Reed said quietly to Archer. "Shran may have helped us in the past, but he's also been known to be less than trustworthy at times. He may be using this as his chance to regain his standing with the Imperial Guard."

"So the bottom line is that we have to prevent this situation from escalating at all costs," Archer said.

"Yes, sir," Reed said, while Byum nodded in response.

Archer took a deep breath and lifting his chin, swung around to face Torok. "We'll talk to Admiral Kiran."

Torok thumped his cane firmly on the deck. "How? You are unable to make contact with him."

"Hoshi!" Archer snapped. His eyes were riveted on the Vulcan.

"I'm sorry, sir," she replied immediately, "still no response."

"You might as well accept the inevitable, Captain," Torok said. "Kiran must be stopped. Only my presence on the Andorian ship can accomplish that. You know I am right. A great deal is at stake here."

Archer's lips moved just enough so that Byum had a pretty good idea of the four letter words that were front and center in the captain's mind, but to his credit, he didn't verbalize them. Instead, he jerked a thumb at the viewscreen and Hoshi reopened the channel to the Andorian ship.

"Well, Archer," Shran said tightly, "we're running out of time. What will it be? Will you help us or will our blood be on your hands?"

"You got yourself into this mess, Shran." Hands on hips, Archer glared at the Andorian. "Now you expect ME to bail you out. Well, this time I may not be able to deliver."

"We have less than…" Shran looked off to one side, mumbled a few words in Andorian and nodded grimly. "…15 minutes. Is the Vulcan still willing to accept our hospitality or have you managed to dissuade him?"

"I am still willing to help," Torok stated firmly, "but time is running out. I suggest we make the transfer as quickly as possible."

The muscles in Archer's jaw clenched and it looked for a moment as though he would refuse, but finally he motioned to his first officer. "Commander Byum, escort the High Priest to the transporter room. And step on it."

"Aye, sir." Byum caught Torok's eye and motioned toward the turbolift. "If you'll follow me, sir."

As the two men took the turbolift to D Deck, Byum glanced out of the corner of his eye at the High Priest. He knew that time was working against them, but if this old man was so important, why was Archer using the transporter to send him over to the Andorian ship? Byum had been assured by a number of people that this technology was safe, but he still had his doubts, especially with someone who looked to be older than Methuselah.

Once the turbolift door opened, Byum's natural instinct was to sprint down the corridor, but he knew that Torok, stout cane in hand, couldn't keep up with him, so he forced his long muscular legs to shorten their stride.

After Byum had been forced to sit helplessly in an office in Starfleet Command during the Xindi crisis, he'd sworn to himself that it would never happen again; he would never sit idly by and allow others to fight his battles for him. Now here he was on board _Enterprise_, in the center of the action, and he still felt helpless. He was no more in command of his own destiny than the captain's dog. His fate and the fates of everyone on board were in the hands of this old man. Byum had accepted the idea of his own death in the line of duty when he joined Starfleet, but he thought it was only natural to want to get in few good licks before he met his maker.

As they drew closer to their destination, Byum saw Hess enter the transporter room. Good. Under the circumstances, it was smart to have the best person manning the transporter.

Byum stepped aside to allow Torok to enter the room first, but the Vulcan hesitated. "I know you do not want me to go alone, Commander, but you must believe that this is for the best."

"Given the history between Vulcans and Andorians, I'm not sure I can agree with that, sir. Captain Archer was correct. We probably won't be able to help you once you're on board the other ship. Just give me a few seconds and I can have a team of MACO's…"

Torok raised a hand and shook his finger in a most Human gesture. "That would be most unwise. We must begin to trust each other sometime. This is where is all begins."

"I hope you're right."

"Shall we get on with it?"

Byum motioned toward the transporter pad. "If you'll just step over…"

Torok's body suddenly seemed to sway and shimmer. Then, before Kevin fully realized what was happening, the old man disappeared.

Byum blinked and took a quick look around. Finally, he poked his head through the hatch and stared at the chief engineer. "Did you do that?"

"No." Hess looked as surprised as he was.

"Shit." Byum hit the comm panel beside the door. "Byum to Archer."

"This is Archer. Go ahead."

"The High Priest is gone, sir."

"All right, we'll get ready to…"

"No, we've got a problem. He was here one minute and then he was…just gone. He never made it to the transporter pad." There was nothing but silence. Finally Byum said, "Sir?"

"Get up here, Commander, on the double. Archer out."

This time there was nothing to keep Byum from heading to the bridge at a dead run. As the turbolift ascended, he kept muttering to himself, "Come on. Come on." Nothing was going right today.

When the lift doors opened, he headed immediately for the science station, jerking his thumb to indicate to the crewman on duty that he was being relieved.

Archer was standing in front of the communication station, both hands gripping the railing. "Hoshi?"

"Sorry, sir, but the Andorians are not responding."

"Travis?"

"The Vulcan fleet will be on top of us in nine minutes. The first of the intercept ships is still twenty minutes out."

"Malcolm?"

"The other Andorian ships have finally caught up. They're beginning to move into position behind Shran's battle cruiser."

Archer looked over at Byum.

"Nothing, sir. They must have enhanced their shielding. Our sensors aren't picking up any Vulcan life signs on the Andorian ship."

"Hoshi," Archer snapped, "send a message to the Vulcans – make it clear and simple. Tell them that their High Priest is on Shran's ship. Tell them that they have to pull up before it's too late."

"Aye, sir," Hoshi answered crisply, without looking up.

As he continued to scan the Andorian ship, Byum thought about his family for a split second, then he was all business. This was what he had trained for and he was damn good at his job. If Torok was on any of those Andorian ships, he would find him.

"I think the Vulcans are receiving, sir," Hoshi said, "but I'm getting no response."

Archer spun around and looked at Malcolm. "Well?"

"The Andorians are charging weapons, sir."

"And the Vulcans?"

"If they're receiving the message, it hasn't even slowed them down."

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** Once again I must apologize for the long stretch of time between chapters. Last year I felt it was necessary to spend more time working to keep my job; as a result, my writing ground to a halt. Hopefully things will go more smoothly this year.

My sincere thanks to everyone for the reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. His observations always make me stop, think, and reconsider.

CHAPTER 17: SHRAN

"Are you sure about this?"

Shran glanced angrily out of the corner of his eye and snapped, "Yes."

Commander Tevlac, Shran's second in command, continued to stare at the viewscreen in front of them. "You may be placing too much trust in the Humans," he snarled. "If it comes to making a choice, they will always side with the Vulcans. Now it appears they even have Vulcan priests on their ships."

"I know Archer. He's cursed with a compulsion to do what is honorable. He will never allow the Vulcans to destroy our ships."

"What do you think this…Archer can do? He only has one pitiful ship. It was a mistake to head for Vulcan. You're faith in this Human has probably killed us all."

"Silence!" Shran spun around to face Tevlac. "Members of the Imperial Guard are not defeatists!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" Tevlac hissed.

"The Humans are sending a message," the communications officer exclaimed, saving Shran the trouble of replying to the blatant challenge. "They're warning the Vulcans that their High Priest is on board our ship." He held up one hand and listened intently. "No, the message has changed."

"Explain," Shran said testily.

The communications officer turned toward Shran and smiled grimly. "The Humans are confused. They aren't sure where to find the High Priest. They're warning the Vulcans that he could be on any of our ships."

_The new shielding is working_, Shran thought, suddenly feeling a bit more optimistic_. If we can get past the Vulcans, maybe we'll have something worthwhile to trade._

"Have the Vulcans changed speed?" he asked aloud.

"No, sir," the helmsman replied.

"Either the Vulcans aren't receiving the Humans' message or they place little value on their High Priest," Tevlac said as he planted himself squarely in front of Shran. "We have a little over eight minutes before their lead ship is in firing range. What are your orders, Captain?"

Clenching his fists, antennae at full alert, Shran locked eyes with Tevlac. He didn't like to be pushed, especially by subordinates who seemed determined to show him no respect. But in this case, Tevlac might be right. Sometimes it paid to take nothing for granted.

"Charge weapons!" Shran bellowed. "Send to all ships."

He wanted to wipe the smirk off of Tevlac's face. The man's insolence was becoming intolerable. Shran wouldn't have tolerated it on the _Kumari_ and he certainly wouldn't put up with it now. Unfortunately, disciplinary measures would have to wait.

"Aye, sir," the communications officer responded briskly. After a moment he added, "All ships report, message received."

"Tell them to hold their fire until I give the order," Shran said. "Keep the formation tight and stay alert. We're not here to provoke the Vulcans."

"Aye, sir." The slight hesitation before the communications officer responded seemed to indicate that he had his doubts about Shran's orders.

Tevlac, on the other hand, was only too willing to voice his disapproval.

"Provoke!" He leaned forward and growled, "Since when do Vulcans need to be provoked before killing Andorians. For over a hundred years our people have been dying at their hands." He pointed a finger at Shran. "You're playing a dangerous game. These people will not follow you blindly forever. You may want to die, but the rest of us have no such wish."

Shran took a step back, his hand going instinctively to his sidearm. He was fed up. Nobody questioned his orders, especially not a slithering worm like Tevlac.

"I've had enough of your insubordination."

"YOU'VE had enough," Tevlac sneered. "If you think we'll sit by quietly while you…."

The sound of the turbolift door opening stopped Tevlac in mid sentence, but he continued to stare defiantly at Shran. Neither man was willing to be the first to look away.

"Here's your Vulcan holy man," said a gruff Andorian voice.

Grudgingly, Shran turned toward the voice, giving Tevlac a token victory. His eyes went immediately to the High Priest who was sandwiched between two burly officers; the Andorians had a tight hold on Torok's arms as though they expected him to bolt at the first opportunity.

Trying to keep his impatience in check, Shran motioned them forward.

As the three men drew closer, one of the Andorians gave a brisk nod to his companion before they both landed solid punches on the old man's back. Pitching forward, arms outstretched in an attempt to break his fall, Torok sprawled on the deck.

"Vulcans don't age well," Tevlac said derisively. "This old man can't even stay on his feet."

"Help him up," Shran said angrily. "The Vulcans will have no interest in retrieving a corpse."

Before anyone could offer him a hand, Torok slowly pushed himself up on one elbow. "If I can have my cane, I believe I will be able to stand on my own."

"Give it to him, Lieutenant Erlas," Shran said to the taller of the two guards. Shran knew Erlas well. He had served under him on the _Kumari_, one of only nineteen survivors.

Scowling, Erlas threw the cane to the deck, just beyond Torok's reach. "Why are you giving him a weapon?" he asked accusingly. "You know that Vulcans can't be trusted."

Shran used the toe of his boot to nudge the cane closer to the high priest. "Show this old man a little more respect. We need his help."

"The Vulcans will be on top of us in less than six minutes," Tevlac exclaimed. "What can one useless priest do?"

Grasping his cane tightly, Torok ignored Shran's outstretched hand and struggled to his feet. "We won't know until I try," he huffed. "I can't make a much bigger mess of this situation than you already have."

Shran gritted his teeth.

"Your intentions are peaceful, aren't they?" Torok planted a hand firmly in the small of his back and stretched, apparently trying to work out some of the kinks. "Or are you trying to draw my people into some kind of asinine trap?"

"If our intentions weren't peaceful," Shran growled, "you'd already be dead."

"Very well, then," Torok said. "Contact the Vulcans. I can make no promises, but I will do everything I can to keep your ships from being destroyed."

"Go!" Shran thrust a finger towards the communications station. The communications officer's antennae stiffened in disapproval, but Shran knew he would do his duty. The man wasn't foolish enough to throw away their last chance for survival.

No one else spoke as Torok tried to contact the Vulcans. Every eye was trained on the viewscreen where feeds from the sensors showed the Vulcan ships drawing relentlessly closer and closer.

"Two minutes," Tevlac spat out. "You were a fool to think this would work." Muttering a string of obscenities, he headed over to the weapons console, casting a venomous look behind him as he went.

Shran refused to comment, but he had to admit that he, too, was beginning to have his doubts. Had he done everything he could? He thought for a moment. Yes…yes, he didn't know what else he could have done. But what if it wasn't enough? So many people were depending on him. The Vulcans would see this as an act of war. If things went wrong, how many Andorians would die because of his actions?

"Ninety seconds."

Had he counted too much on the help of the Humans? Archer OWED him. Earth and _Enterprise_ were still here because of Shran and the _Kumari_. But now, when he needed them most, the Humans were hanging back. Archer had crawled to fame and glory on the shoulders of the Andorians and now he was deserting them. He should have known better. Those worthless Humans couldn't even protect one feeble old man, let alone a convoy of Andorian ships.

"One minute."

Shran cast a look of total disgust at Torok, who was still doggedly trying to make contact with the Vulcans. He had obviously overestimated the influence of this priest; the Vulcans weren't responding to any of his hails. He had been so sure that those green-blooded devils wouldn't risk the life of their spiritual leader, but he apparently meant nothing to them. Did the animosity between Andorians and Vulcans run so deep that they would sacrifice the life of their High Priest?

Of course it did.

Wouldn't he do the same thing in their place? Wouldn't he sacrifice everything to destroy the people who had killed his brother?

"Thirty seconds.

Shran knotted his hands tightly behind his back and took a deep breath. No, he chided himself, those days were over. The Vulcans would come to their senses. They had to. He had lost the respect of the Imperial Guard when the _Kumari_ was destroyed. He refused to lose another ship. The Vulcans weren't at war with Andoria. There was no reason for them to attack.

"Fifteen seconds."

There was no more time. What could he do now except try to salvage whatever he could? The new shielding might help…would help. But would it be enough?

"To all ships, hold your fire!" Shran barked.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"The enemy is firing!" barked the tactical officer.

The words were barely out of her mouth before the ship was rocked by weapons fire. The bridge lights flickered once then held as alarms sounded. For a moment Shran stared incredulously at the viewscreen then he shouted, "Damage report!"

"Get out of the way, Vulcan!" the communications officer yelled as he muscled the high priest out of the way. He had barely resumed his seat at the communications station when he began relaying the reports which were flooding in from the various ships.

Shran held his breath. There was damage, especially to the transports, but there were no casualties. So far so good, but the situation would change rapidly if the Vulcans continued to press their attack.

Where was Archer?

Shran clenched his hands into two tight fists. Enterprise was moving, but the Humans they wasting their time chasing after one of the Vulcan ships. What good would that do? Why wasn't Archer firing? Why wasn't he trying to screen the Andorian ships?

A Vulcan battle cruise streaked by the viewscreen, firing as it went, and Shran's ship shuddered once again. The helmsman flinched as sparks erupted from his console, but he remained firmly rooted at his station, a determined look etched across his face.

"Evasive action, sir."

Shran took note that it was more of a statement from the helmsman than a question. Tevlac's insubordination was obviously having a negative impact on the rest of the bridge crew.

"Hold your course, Lieutenant Kralan," Shran said in a voice that left no doubt as to who was in command.

Through it all, the communications officer continued to relay information from the other ships. Several transports and one battle cruiser were reporting hull breaches. Other ships had suffered damage to warp engines, weapons systems and shield generators. There were casualties now, including half a dozen fatalities. And every captain was warning that they wouldn't hold their fire for much longer.

_People were dying!_ Shran's inner voice shouted. _This was madness! If only those Vulcans bastards would hold their fire long enough for me to explain!_

"Shields are holding," Tevlac snapped, "but they won't hold for long. We must defend ourselves!"

"No, " Torok said, thumping his cane on the deck once for emphasis. "You must not fire."

"Be quiet, old man." Tevlac stalked over to Shran and, grabbing one shoulder, spun him around until they were face to face. "We can wait no longer."

"The warship _Sha'linah_ is opening fire," the tactical officer exclaimed. She looked up from her counsel and stared at Shran. The pride reflected in her eyes spoke volumes.

"You must stop them," Torok snapped.

"Tell Commander Trevlis to stand down!" Shran bellowed. "I order him to hold his fire!"

"The Vulcans are concentrating their fire on the _Sha'linah_," the tactical officer said, his voice tense.

"Help them!" Tevlac shouted, his face mere inches from Shran's. "Are you too much of a coward to defend your own people!"

"The _Sha'Linah's_ shields are failing," the tactical officer reported.

Pressing his lips together, Shran remained silent as Tevlac and the rest of the bridge crew glared at him. He had to be strong, but how long could he stand firm when the enemies of his people were in the process of destroying everything around him? It was unthinkable for a commander in the Imperial Guard to stand by passively while Vulcan ships pounded an Andorian vessel. He had to open fire. He had to go to their aid. But if he did, would it lead to their salvation or to their total annihilation? If only he knew what…

Shock waves from an explosion smacked against Shran's ship and he was thrown against Tevlac. Shoving his first officer roughly aside, Shran looked over to his tactical officer.

"The _Sha'linah_ is gone," she said, her eyes flashing with ill-concealed fury.

"And the Vulcans?"

"Their ships are now converging on us."

The ship shuddered violently as the Vulcan weapons hit home again and again. Shran and Tevlac were thrown off balance and tumbled to the deck, but it was Tevlac who was the first one back on his feet. Without a moment's hesitation he pulled his side arm and swung around to confront Torok. In one smooth motion he raised his weapon, pointed it at the high priest and…

Shran fired.

From his prone position on the deck, he watched as Tevlac collapsed, a charred hole in the center of his back. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Shran scrambled to his feet, but he needn't have worried. Lieutenant Erlas, ever alert, was standing at the back of the bridge, weapon drawn, covering his back. After giving the lieutenant a quick nod of thanks, he quickly scanned the faces of the other members of the bridge crew. All registered anger, but no one else appeared ready challenge to his authority –- not with the dour Erlas on the job. Too bad. Shran was spoiling for a fight.

The acrid stench of burned flesh still hung in the air as he turned toward Torok, weapon at the ready. No Vulcan's life was worth the loss of a fellow Andorian, even one as worthless as Tevlac. This High Priest had overstayed his welcome.

"Maybe Tevlac was right!" Shran yelled. "Why should we allow vermin like you to kill us without a fight?"

"Your ships are already damaged," Torok said. "If you fire now they will be destroyed. There will be no survivors."

"They're going to kill us anyway!" Shran raised his weapon, hand rock-steady, and pointed it at Torok. "Or was that your plan all along? Pound us into submission and then destroy us one by one."

Torok raised one hand, palm forward, in an apparent attempt to calm Shran. "My only goal is peace. I have always acted in good faith."

"I don't believe you, old man! You sent the Vulcan ships some sort of code message, didn't you?" Told them we were vulnerable, ripe for attack."

"That is nonsense."

"I was a fool to trust you. We will never…"

"The Vulcans have stopped firing," Lieutenant Kralan exclaimed with more than a little surprise in his voice.

It took a moment for Shran to process the words, but suddenly he became aware of the silence. He lowered his weapon and turned towards the viewscreen. The Vulcan ships were circling, carrion birds ready to pounce, if challenged.

"We're being hailed," the communications officer said.

"Who?" Shran asked. Maybe it was Archer. Maybe he'd found a way to get through to the Vulcans.

"The commander of the Vulcan fleet," the communications officer said with a sour tone in his voice. "Admiral Kiran."

"Our shields are still at 53%," the tactical officer said, rising slightly from her chair. "We can still fight."

Shran had been forced to make many difficult decisions before, but never one that so thoroughly tested everything he believed in. The Imperial Guard does not surrender. Not to Vulcans or to another other adversary. But there were other lives at stake. If he capitulated, would the people who were placed in his charge survive? Or would he be condemning them to a quick, merciless death at the hands of the Vulcans?

Given the circumstances, he knew he had very little choice. He also knew that he could be about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

"Better surrender than mass suicide," Shran said, pulling himself up to his full height. He would show these emotionless bastards how an Andorian behaves in the face of adversity. "Put Kiran on."

Admiral Kiran, chest puffed out in triumph, appeared on the viewscreen. "How dare you move against Vulcan?"

"You Vulcans never get anything right," Shran replied testily. "We were searching for Archer and the Human ship, _Enterprise_. We have no interest in you or your world."

"Lies. You are on a direct heading for Vulcan."

"Not lies, but the truth! You attacked us without provocation."

"If Vulcan is threatened, we will retaliate. And don't play the innocent. Your warship fired on us."

"One ship in nine," Shran snapped. "And only after its captain could no longer stand by and see his ship destroyed without a fight. We have children on board these ships. Are you Vulcans so determined to exterminate our people that you would even kill innocent children?"

"Experience has taught me that Andorians can be dangerous at any age. A person is equally dead if he is killed by a man of fifty or a boy of five."

"If we were so bent on killing, your High Priest would be dead by now." Shran thrust out his left arm and pointed a finger at Torok. "As you can see, he is still very much alive."

Torok took two steps forward and planted his cane on the deck in front of him. "In this instance, Commander Shran is correct. Your attack on these people was completely unwarranted. If you had responded to my transmissions, we might have been able to resolve this situation without resorting to violence."

"Keep quiet, Torok," Kiran snapped.

The high priest pointed at Shran. "This man just saved my life."

"Of course he did. There are few things more useless than a dead hostage."

Torok pursed his lips then continued, "We have no reason to detain these people any further. Allow the Andorians to proceed to Earth with the Human ship. They can pose no threat to us there."

Kiran leaned forward in his command chair. "Don't be naive. That would be playing right into the Andorians' hands. They know our ships are invincible, so they plan to trick the Humans into an alliance: Earth and Andoria in league with the Romulan Empire."

"That is absurd. The Humans are not that gullible."

"Of course they are. They are only concerned about their precious Coalition. If the Andorians made enough reckless promises, the Humans wouldn't think twice about abandoning Vulcan to her enemies."

"You're wrong," Shran bristled. "But even if you were correct and my people were trying to entice the Humans into an alliance, your attack would have played right into our hands. Humans have very little use for oppressors."

"Silence!" Kiran glared at Shran. "Order your ships to stand down and prepare to be boarded."

"You have no right to board my ships! We are not at war."

"If one person resists, we will stand off and destroy your ships. Any survivors will be taken prisoner and interned on Vulcan."

"Archer and his crew are witnesses to this act of piracy. Do you intend to seize their ship, too?"

"The Humans have been warned to stay out of Vulcan affairs. If they do not comply, I am prepared to take action."

Seething, Shran clenched his left hand into a fist. If he was only alone, he would challenge Admiral Kiran to a fight to the death. It would be so satisfying to feel his ushann-tor slice through the body of this pompous ass. An insult this heinous could only be washed away by a torrent of green blood.

But he wasn't alone. That was the curse which bound his hands.

Shran took a deep breath and slowly turned toward his communications officer. "Send to all ships: We are about to be boarded. Offer no resistance. Any act of retaliation will result in the immediate destruction of every ship in the convoy."

The communications officer shook his head and snarled, "I refuse to be involved in this act of…"

"Send it!" Shran bellowed. Raising the weapon he still held in his hand, he pointed it toward his recalcitrant officer. "Do it now!"

Sneaking a quick look over his shoulder, he saw Lieutenant Erlas keeping a careful watch over the other members of the bridge crew. At least one man was still with him.

The communications officer hesitated for a tense moment, but Shran's weapon and the staunch presence of Lieutenant Erlas finally won out and he grudgingly complied.

While the message went out, Shran went to the nearest comm and broadcast the same message to his crew and passengers. When he was finished, he glanced at the dead body close to his feet. He never thought he'd envy Tevlac, but he did right now. His former first officer was beyond caring, beyond trouble or grief or guilt. Unfortunately, Shran knew his own problems were only just beginning. Some of the people in the convoy might thank him for all he'd done for them, but the vast majority would no doubt see him only as a traitor, the craven coward who had surrendered to their hated Vulcan enemies. As things stood, if the Vulcans didn't see fit to execute him, his own people probably would.

"All ships report message received," grumbled the communications officer. His eyes slid over to the viewscreen where Admiral Kiran's image still loomed large. "Some asked for the message to be repeated. They could not believe that an Andorian captain would surrender so easily."

Kiran pointed a finger at Shran. "I've warned you, Andorian. You know what will happen if…"

"Enough!" Shran made a slashing motion with one hand. "If you're going to invade my ships, then do it. I've had enough of you and your threats." He pointed a rigid finger in Kiran's direction. "Just remember before you start massacring my people that you won't be able to cover up your crimes. Archer is still out there."

Frowning, Kiran flicked a finger and almost immediately Shran heard a low hum from the back of the bridge. Swinging around, he saw four heavily armed Vulcans transport onto the bridge of his ship. After a quick look around, they fanned out, weapons raised. One turned toward Erlas who raised both his hands, fingers spread wide, then with thumb and forefinger, laid his weapon down on the deck in front of him. The lone woman in the group took control of the tactical station while another Vulcan roughly shoved aside the communications officer and took over his console.

Shran knew that he had to control the anger that was still surging through him. Kiran was looking for any excuse to kill. The fourth Vulcan, after giving Tevlac's body a swift kick, walked over to Shran and carefully removed the weapon from his hand. They stood there for a moment eye to eye, each taking the measure the other. There was no question in Shran's mind that if challenged, this Vulcan would kill him without a second thought.

"Is everything under control, Subcommander Korac," Kiran snapped.

Without breaking eye contact the subcommander replied, "Yes, sir."

Only then did he step around Shran to face the viewscreen. "The bridge is secure. What are your orders?"

In a show of defiance, Shran walked over to the command chair and sat down. It probably meant nothing to the Vulcans, but it meant a great deal to him. Over the years, he'd fooled himself into believing that professionally he would face nothing more difficult than the loss of the _Kumari_, but he was mistaken. This was infinitely worse. Everything was being systematically stripped from him, including his dignity.

"The operation is proceeding according to plans." Kiran said. "Shuttles with additional manpower are docking now. Secure the ship and confine the Andorians. You will be notified when it is time to go to warp."

"Yes, sir, we will be ready."

"Just a moment." Torok stepped forward. "I trust these people will be treated with respect, Admiral."

"Respect," Kiran bristled. "The Andorians have never treated us with respect. Why should they expect any quarter from us now?"

"That is in the past. If there are any improprieties, I will be making a report to Minister T'Pau and the High Council."

"You are out of your element, Torok. Stay out of the way and don't interfere.  
We know what we are doing."

"Do you?"

"Yes. These Andorians will not be missed."

Shran jumped to his feet. "Archer and the Humans are watching. They will not allow you to…"

Kiran brought his fist down on the arm of his chair. "I don't have time for this. Instead of planning invasions, Andorian, perhaps you should pay a little more attention to what is going on around you."

Shran's antennae twitched in anger. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Since you're so interested in the Humans, you of course know that Commander Tucker has been arrested for espionage."

Shran stared at Kiran. "I don't believe you."

"You should believe me, Andorian. It is the truth."

Shran spun around to face Torok. "Is it true?"

"Yes." The high priest's face showed no trace of emotion, but his voice seemed to soften a little. "It is not surprising that you were unaware of the fact. It has only recently been made public."

Shran squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a shake, trying to force himself to think clearly. "Even…if what you say is true, why bring up Commander Tucker's situation now? It has nothing to do with us."

Kiran sat back in his seat, his entire body exuding confidence. "Because of Tucker's supposed treasonous activities, there is a great deal of anti-alien sentiment on Earth. Given that fact, it is most unlikely that the people of United Earth will come to the aid of any alien power."

"I don't…"

"You want Archer to protect you. That will not happen. The people of Earth will not let it happen. You are on your own, Andorian."

"But you don't understand why we're here…what we're trying to do." Shran knew his words were falling on deaf ears, but he was desperate, grasping at any straw within reach. "Earth will not allow you to destroy…"

Before Shran could finish, Kiran's brow furrowed and, raising a hand, motioned to his communications officer. The viewscreen changed in an instant. Now all Shran could see were stars and Vulcan ships.

Subcommander Korac nudged Shran with his phase pistol and pointed toward the turbolift, but Shran barely felt it. He was numb all over, too numb to begin to make sense of things. Through all this, he'd clung to one hope, that Archer could work a miracle. How could he have been such a fool?

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**Author's note:** My sincere thanks to everyone for the reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta. His observations always make me stop, think, and reconsider. And in this case, add a couple more pages.

CHAPTER 18: ARCHER

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think this is a good idea. Perhaps you should reconsider."

"We've been all through this, Commander." Jonathan Archer pointed to a spot toward the back of the shuttlepod. "Now toss that duffel bag down there and get back to work. You've got the bridge." He stepped back, allowing Lieutenant Mayweather to slip past him and into the pilot's set.

But,sir…"

Sighing, Archer dropped his sleeping bag on one of the benches and turned to face Commander Byum. "I understand your concern, but I know what I'm doing."

"Admiral Gardner specifically told us not to piss off the Vulcans. And this…" Byum swept one hand in a wide arc. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think camping outside the High Council's conference room is going to win you any friends."

"Right now, making friends isn't exactly my top priority." Archer stuck both hands on his hips. He couldn't understand why he was being kept away from Shran? Did the Vulcans suddenly see him as an enemy since he'd tried to help the Andorians? He wouldn't put it past them. Archer gritted his teeth. Somebody had better have a damn good explanation. "I'm tired of getting the run-around. I want answers. Let's see what the Vulcans think about camp stoves and portable latrines. Maybe they'll decide they'd rather talk to me than smell bacon cooking every morning."

Byum took a deep breath. "I know that you and the Andorian, Shran, are friends, but..."

"Shran not only saved my life, but he also helped save Earth. I have no intention of abandoning him now."

"I never thought you would, sir." Byum ran his long, thin fingers through his hair, a gesture which suddenly reminded Archer of Trip. "There just has to be a better way…a way that won't put your career at risk."

"I don't give a damn about my career!"

"You should." Byum threw the duffel bag into the shuttlepod, forcing Archer to lean slightly to his left. The bag ricocheted off the far bench and landed on the deck. "You know how to play the game. Power and influence are the tools that can get you what you want. After the Xindi mission, you had those in spades. Don't throw it all away."

"I have no intention of throwing anything away. I've just decided that it's time to take a more…unorthodox approach."

From off to his left, Archer heard Travis clear his throat. "Excuse me, sir, but Ambassador Soval wants to speak with you. Should I have Hoshi put him through?"

Soval. Maybe things were finally beginning to look up.

"Yes." Archer clapped Travis on the shoulder and smiled. "Then step outside and join the commander. I'll see what the ambassador wants."

Mayweather nodded. After quickly informing Lieutenant Sato of the captain's wishes, he left the shuttlepod, closing the hatch in the process.

Archer sat down in the pilot's seat and scrubbed both hands over his face before making the connection. A good night's sleep had been hard to come by lately.

"What can I do for you, Ambassador?"

"I was informed that you intend to visit us this morning."

"That's right." Archer leaned over and grabbed his sleeping bag, holding it up for Soval to see. "I'm all packed and ready to go."

"Do you think this course of action is wise, Captain?"

"You sound just like my first officer." Archer wasn't surprised when Soval's eyebrow shot up. "I'll tell you what I told Commander Byum. I'm tired of getting the run-around. I want some answers – now."

"I see."

"It's been over three weeks and no one will say word one about the status of the Andorians you've got in custody. Shran came to me for help. I intend to see that he gets it."

"And you think camping out on the High Council's doorstep will convince them to be more candid?"

Archer shrugged. "I've tried everything else."

Soval studied Archer's face for a moment then said, "Perhaps such a rash act will not be necessary."

Archer dropped the sleeping bag and leaned forward. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but maybe things might finally be breaking his way.

"Go ahead, Ambassador."

"Torok has finally convinced the High Council to allow you to talk with Commander Shran." Soval raised a hand in warning. "But the two of you will not be allowed to speak in private."

"Why not?" It was amazing how quickly the Vulcans could turn a smile into a frown.

"The Ministry of Security does not believe it is wise; however, Vaaris and T'Pau have agreed to brief representatives of United Earth."

"Will Shran be there?"

"Yes."

"Is he all right?"

When Soval didn't answer quickly enough, Archer prodded, "So is he all right? Yes or no. It's a simple question."

Soval took a deep breath. "You look for absolutes where there are none."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Archer asked, his voice rising sharply. He bit his lower lip, a not so subtle reminder to watch his temper. At this point, alienating Soval was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Physically, Commander Shran is unharmed."

"And mentally?"

"I assure you there will be no permanent damage." Soval again raised his hand, silencing Archer before he could interrupt. "The Ministry of Security had to be sure he was telling the truth. There is a great deal at stake."

Archer felt his anger spike again. "And how do we know that Shran hasn't been programmed to say what you want him to say?"

Soval looked rather affronted. "We would not do that."

"Like hell you wouldn't." Archer scrubbed a hand over his mouth before he could say anything more inflammatory. That would get him nowhere. It would probably be best if he got the pertinent information and signed off. "Just tell me where and when."

"The Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. As for when, Admiral Gardner's shuttle should be docking with _Enterprise_ as we speak."

"Fine."

"Captain…" Soval hesitated. "I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you, but you must walk carefully. This situation has caused a great deal of dissension in the High Council. It wouldn't take much to destroy the progress Torok and I have made."

"I promise to be on my very best behavior."

Soval looked sternly at Archer. "Sarcasm does not become you, Captain."

Silently, Archer berated himself. Even though he felt confident that his friendship with Soval remained strong, it was never wise to presume too much.

"I apologize if my tone conveyed a lack of respect, Ambassador. I assure you that that was not my intent."

"Apology accepted."

"Have you contacted Admiral Tamura and Ambassador Belliveau? They'll want to be present."

"The ambassador and Admiral Tamura are already on site. I look forward to seeing you, Captain."

As soon as Soval's face disappeared, Archer contacted Hoshi, who informed him that Admiral Gardner's shuttle had just docked.

Slapping his hands against his thighs, Archer rose and opened the hatch. As expected, Mayweather and Byum were waiting for him. Without uttering a word, Archer grabbed his sleeping bag and tossed it to Travis. When the duffle bag sailed into Byum's hands, Archer couldn't miss the look of relief on his first officer's face. At least someone was happy about this turn of events.

"Has there been a change in plans, sir?" Travis asked.

"It looks like we're finally going to get some action." Archer stepped briskly out of the shuttle and motioned for his two officers to follow him. "The Vulcans have scheduled a briefing. I'll be leaving immediately."

"Won't you still need a pilot?" Travis asked. "It's been a little quiet around here lately. I wouldn't mind a spin around the countryside."

"I appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but Admiral Gardner is picking me up. His shuttle just docked."

"Aye, sir," Travis sighed.

A crewman, who was just entering the launch bay, quickly stepped aside as the three men exited, headed for the port airlock.

"Commander, cancel all shore leaves," Archer said, glancing over his shoulder at Byum. "And check with the department heads. No systems taken offline for scheduled maintenance. No glitches that could present a problem. I want _Enterprise_ ready to go if things go sour – ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Understood, sir."

"Lieutenant, increase our sensor sweeps. If a ship moves – any ship – I want to know about it."

"Aye, sir."

"Any questions?"

"No, sir," the two officers replied in union.

"Good."

When Archer turned the corner leading to the airlock, he saw Lieutenant Commander Reed standing next to Admiral Gardner.

"You spoke to Soval?" Gardner asked as Archer approached the two men.

"Yeah, I did. Maybe we'll finally find out what's going on."

Gardner tipped his head to the right. "Commander Reed will be coming with us."

Surprised, Archer looked at Reed, but the officer's face betrayed nothing. Archer turned toward Byum. "Commander, you have the ship. If you run into any problems, you know where to find me."

"Aye, sir."

Without further delay, Gardner turned and headed for the shuttle. Embassy shuttles were slightly larger than the ones carried on _Enterprise_ and included certain amenities which would naturally appeal to diplomats. The seats and backs of the benches were well-padded and upholstered in a plush deep green fabric. Refreshments were readily available, and there were comm stations at regularly spaced intervals around the interior of the cabin, comm stations which made private conversations on sensitive subjects possible.

Once inside, Reed went immediately to the pilot's seat and prepared for launch while Gardner motioned Archer to a seat at the back. After weeks of frustration, Archer didn't wait for Gardner to begin the conversation.

"What's going on, Admiral? Soval said Shran would be at this briefing, but I wouldn't be able to talk to him alone. What are the Vulcans trying to pull?"

Gardner motioned with one hand in a calming gesture as he eased himself down on one of the benches. "Slow down. A lot has happened in the last couple of days and I need to bring you up to speed, but first I want to explain about Commander Shran." When Archer started to say something, Gardner added, "You're not going to like what I have to tell you, so just sit back and don't interrupt."

Jon warily leaned back as the shuttle took off. This was hardly an auspicious beginning, but at least he wouldn't be stuck in the dark any longer.

"The Vulcans approached us a week ago about resolving this situation."

"A week ago!"

"I said don't interrupt," Gardner snapped. He glanced at Reed, who sat face forward, apparently totally focused on the task at hand, and seemed satisfied. "It was Starfleet's decision to keep you out of this until now." He raised his hand again as a warning. "And with good reason. Your assignment to organize freighter convoys was a top priority. It was absolutely vital for the future of the Coalition that you developed a system that would work. The Tellarites and all the other partners must be protected.

"But it goes deeper than that. Starfleet knows the value of the relationship you've built with Shran, but it's vital that he begins to trust other Humans, as well." Gardner took a deep breath. "Hasn't it occurred to you, Jon, that Shran's reliance on you almost got the Andorians killed? If he hadn't been trying to link up with you, the Andorian ships would have never been on a course for Vulcan; they would have headed directly to Earth and this mess could have been avoided."

Thunderstruck, Archer could only gape at Admiral Gardner. It had never occurred to him that his presence could have posed a threat to the very people he was trying to help. He and Shran had often shown up when the other needed help and the results had usually been positive – but not this time. How could he have been so blind?

"Thanks to the efforts of Minister Vaaris, Admiral Tamura was given access to Shran. They talked, supposedly got everything out in the open. Now we have to find a way to bring the Vulcans and the Andorians together. That's where you come in."

Gardener shifted restlessly in his seat. "Admiral Kiran and a couple of the other hardliners will probably be at the briefing today. We've got to make them see reason. In the face of the Romulan threat, Vulcan can't afford to be isolated. We, in turn, will need the Vulcans' help if the Romulans force us into a fight. The Andorians are the wild card; they can either help us or hurt us."

Sensing that the admiral was winding down, Archer asked, "Permission to speak, sir?"

"Go ahead."

"Why was Shran trying to find me? What do the Andorians want?"

Gardner looked a little uncomfortable. "I wish I could answer your questions. Admiral Tamura is playing things close to the vest; he's told me next to nothing. My guess is that the Vulcans are trying to control the situation, as usual. He has to decide how far he can push them before he loses any chance of gaining their cooperation." The admiral rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. "Tamura is a good man. We can trust him."

Archer, unfortunately, didn't feel quite so confident. He didn't know the head of Starfleet Intelligence all that well, but he had had dealings with Harris, and Harris was a nasty bastard. What if the two men were more alike than they appeared to be on the surface? What kind of back-room treachery could Tamura be cooking up? Was he really trying to work with the Vulcans or was he just trying to use their natural stubbornness to justify severing Vulcan-Earth relations? And what about Shran and the Andorians? Would he sell them out for a few tidbits of classified information and a peek into the inner workings of the Imperial Guard?

"Excuse me, Admiral," Reed said over his shoulder, "the Vulcans are asking for a recognition code."

"Right."

Gardener quickly accessed the comm station on his right and, after making contact, rattled off a rather lengthy series of letters and numbers. When he'd finished, he paused then said to Reed, "We have clearance, Commander, but our destination has changed. I just entered a new set of coordinates. If you deviate from this course for any reason, the Vulcans will blow us out of the sky."

"Understood, sir," Reed replied calmly. He swiveled his head from side to side, apparently on the lookout for alien crafts.

"Where are we headed now?" Archer asked.

"I have no idea," Gardner said. "I was notified in advance that there would be a course change, but the destination was not disclosed. I do know that security will be very tight. Their government is as leaky as a rusty sieve."

"Having been to Mount Seleya, I guess I can understand that. It would be difficult to secure the Sanctuary, and I'm sure the Vulcans wouldn't want to run the risk of endangering one of their most important religious sites."

"Excuse me, sir," Reed said. "We're heading away from the planet. Given the coordinates, I believe we're headed for one of their orbital spacedocks."

"Thank you," Gardner muttered, then fell silent, an uneasy expression on his face.

Both men sat quietly for a time. Finally Archer said. "By the way, Admiral, why is Mr. Reed along for the ride?"

"I flew to _Enterprise_ by myself because I enjoy keeping my hand in every now and then," Gardner replied. "You know the old saying: once a pilot always a pilot. Mr. Reed is along so that you and I could have this little chat without any interruptions."

"Lieutenant Mayweather was looking forward to piloting the embassy shuttle. He doesn't get the chance very often."

"That may be the case, but I had already made arrangements with Mr. Reed."

Archer looked a little more closely at the admiral. Something wasn't right. He knew when he was being handed a line of bullshit.

"Now how about telling me the real reason? Does it have something to do with today's briefing? You might as well let me have it all at once."

"Captain…"

"If there's a problem, I want to know."

"All right," Gardner said with a sigh. "I didn't want you to find out like this, but since you've pressed the point, I've decided to go along with a request to reassign Commander Reed."

"What?" Archer exclaimed. "Why now? If we're headed for a war, I'll need an experienced armory officer and Reed knows the weapons systems like the back of his hand."

"The same sort of thing could be said about Commanders Tucker and T'Pol, but you seem to have managed without them."

Archer scrubbed a hand over his eyes in frustration. He didn't need this – not now.

"Could I ask what assignment is more important than armory officer on _Enterprise_?"

"You can ask, but I'd rather not say right now. I'll fill you in before Reed leaves at the end of the week."

"The end of the week!" Archer was fuming. Every time he turned around, someone was tying his hands. First Trip and T'Pol were removed from _Enterprise_ – and now Reed.

"I think I have a right to know now, Admiral."

"Don't push, Captain," Gardner growled. "You'll be told in good time."

"And what about a replacement?"

"I have someone in mind. Lieutenant Commander Asante Uhlani is on Vulcan, visiting his father. He comes highly recommended, he has both security and weapons experience, and he's available."

Is that all this was, Archer thought bitterly, a case of nepotism? Admiral Uhlani wanted to get a prestigious berth for his kid, so he decided to clear a path for him. Reed would get transferred to another ship or to a desk job back on Earth and Jonathan Archer would be stuck with the admiral's bouncing baby boy. His "experience" probably amounted to little more than simulations and training exercises. Highly qualified officers were seldom "available."

Archer turned his head and looked closely at Reed, trying to gauge his reaction to the current topic of discussion, but Malcolm gave no indication that he was upset by what was being said. Suddenly another thought popped into Jon's head. What if Uhlani wasn't the source of the problem? What if Reed wanted out? He took a moment to carefully consider the possibility, but then discarded it. Reed had let him down once before, but that was all in the past. If Malcolm had wanted a transfer, Jon knew he would have come to him. They would have talked it over and reached some sort of an understanding. No, it couldn't be Malcolm.

But what if someone else wanted to have him reassigned? By removing her senior officers, one after the other, someone could be trying to undermine _Enterprise's_ effectiveness and diminish her strike potential. It was certainly possible. Such a move would fit right in with the other subversive activities which had been plaguing both Earth and Vulcan. But why pick on _Enterprise_? Why not _Columbia_ or one of the other ships in the fleet?

"I'm sorry about Reed," Gardner said. "I know the timing is bad, but it can't be helped. Right now I need you to focus your energies on doing what you do best: finding a way to get the Vulcans and the Andorians working together. Not just for today but for the long term. Everything depends on it."

"And how am I supposed to do that? You cut the legs out from under me when you prevented me from helping Shran. Why should he trust me again? As for the Vulcans, I may have recovered the Kir'Shara, but I doubt that carries much weight anymore. Kiran and his cronies have probably blown my attempts to help Shran completely out of proportion. How can I bring the Vulcans and the Andorians together if both sides see me as persona non grata?"

"Admiral Tamura has assured me that he's made Shran aware of your attempts to see him. He's knows you're not at fault. As for the Vulcans, you know who your friends are."

"What about the freighter convoys?" Archer asked, head down, eyes glued to the deck. "I thought they were my top priority."

"The plan you've developed is first-rate, Jon, but now your talents are needed elsewhere. There are some very capable people back at Starfleet Command who can take what you've developed and run with it."

Forearms planted firmly on his knees, Archer looked up at Gardner. "You don't believe in giving out small assignments, do you, Admiral?"

"Not when I know I have the right man for the job." Gardner hesitated before adding, "It's only fair to tell you, Jon, that I will remove you from command of _Enterprise_, if necessary." Archer's breath caught in his throat as he stared at Gardner in disbelief. "I won't like it, but I'll do it. I have a number of officers who are capable of commanding a starship, but only one man who has a proven track record for bringing the Vulcans, Andorians and Tellarites together – Captain Jonathan Archer. In the past you've successfully handled diplomatic negotiations while commanding _Enterprise_; I hope you can continue to do so. If not, diplomacy – at least for the time being – will have to come first."

Archer was stunned. He knew that someday he would leave Enterprise – it was only natural for someone who was advancing through the ranks – but he'd always thought it would be on his terms. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever wanted to be a diplomat. He was an explorer and _Enterprise_ was his ticket to the stars. Nope, he wasn't ready to go just yet. Not by a long shot. Now all he had to do was find a way to overcome hundreds of years of animosity so he could stay in command. Piece of cake.

Suddenly Reed said, 'Excuse me, Admiral, but we've got company: Vulcan fighters, port and starboard."

Both passengers craned their necks to get a better look out the viewports. "An escort?" Gardner said.

"It would appear so."

"Have they made contact?"

"No."

Gardner hesitated apparently deep in thought, then he scrubbed a hand over his beard and slowly leaned back against the seat. "All right, Jon," he said, "who's the weak link? Whose ego do we have to massage to get some leverage with the Vulcans?"

Mentally sifting through the usual suspects, Archer sighed. "That's the problem. I don't think there is a weak link." He paused. "Maybe Sulin, because of his age, but I don't think he has much influence in the High Council anymore. As for egos, I'd say Admiral Kiran has everyone else beat hands down. Unfortunately, I doubt we can get around his obvious dislike for Humans, present company included."

"You'll find a way. You always do."

Archer snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Personally, I think you've got the wrong man for the job. Now that Trip's been cleared of the charges against him, I would think he'd be a much better choice. After all, he and T'Pol are the ones with the contacts on Vulcan."

With a shake of his head, Gardner replied, "That's not going to happen, so put it out of your mind. Earth needs someone who can provide a visible presence during the negotiations. Tucker doesn't fit the bill."

"But Trip…"

"No. Haven't you been following what's happening on Earth? Haven't you listened to the drivel spouted by that idiot Julian Esterle? Those Peace Forever fools" – the admiral swept one hand up in a wide arc – "have built an entire campaign around Tucker. We can prove he's innocent, but Esterle and his followers don't care. Tucker's become the poster child for the evils of associating with alien beings. We need someone with a spotless reputation, a larger-than-life hero, the man who saved Earth from the Xindi menace – in short, we need you."

_A hero? A man with a spotless reputation? They couldn't be more wrong_, Archer thought as he squeezed his eyes shut. _Why do people keep trying to make me a hero?_

He took a deep breath as he tried to sort out his feelings. When they'd spoken weeks ago, Torok told him that he alone wasn't responsible for the success or failure of the Coalition. Now it looked as if the high priest was wrong; Gardner had just dumped the whole ugly mess right back into Jon's lap. Is this what his life is going to be like from now on? Would people always expect him to be some sort of miracle worker? How could he live up to that? How could he keep Jonathan Archer from getting lost in all the bullshitting and back slapping? And heaven help him, what happens if he couldn't deliver? Would Earth be dragged into an interstellar war? How many more lives would he have on his conscience?

"Are you all right, Jon?" Gardner asked quietly.

Archer opened his eyes and saw the concern on the admiral's face. He had to get a grip.

"I know you've been working long hours lately. I'd like to give you some time off, but…"

"Yeah, I know." Archer sat up a little straighter. He'd been put in command of Earth's first warp 5 starship because he could handle responsibility. This kind of pressure was nothing new. _After all_, he thought bitterly, _he was a hero. There was no problem he couldn't solve. He just had to suck it up._ "Don't worry, I'm fine," he said aloud. "I'll take some time off when this situation's been resolved."

"Good." Gardener was visibly relieved.

"What about the Diplomatic Corps?" Jon said, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "Won't I be stepping on their toes?

"I've discussed this with Ambassador Belliveau and Ambassador Steinbach. They're happy to provide any support you deem necessary."

"You're sure Steinbach's on board with this? I know he has a history of resenting Starfleet's interference in Earth-Andorian affairs."

"It seems the ambassador was somewhat shaken by his rather unceremonious dismissal from Andoria. When he tried to get a last minute audience with the chancellor, a member of the Imperial Guard held a knife to his throat and threatened him with grievous bodily harm."

"Oh."

"He's got a wealth of knowledge about the Andorians in that head of his, but at 73 years old, Andreas Steinbach just doesn't have the heart to fight the good fight anymore. He wanted to return to Earth, but I finally convinced him to pay a visit to Vulcan instead."

"So _Columbia's_ headed this way."

"As soon as she drops off the Coridan ambassador and his staff."

"I'll set something up with Belliveau and Steinbach. Pick their brains."

"Good, Jon, and if there's anything you need, just let me know. Starfleet's resources are at your disposal."

Archer wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. "There is one thing."

"Yes."

"I'd like to see Trip. Where is he?"

"Jon," Gardener said, "Commander Tucker is..."

Archer shook his head. "I just want to talk to him. The last time I saw him we parted under less than ideal circumstances. I want to make amends." He smiled at Gardner. "You never know, he might be able to give me some tips on handling Kiran."

"If you would let me finish, I was going to say that Commanders Tucker and T'Pol will be at the briefing today."

Archer didn't even try to hide his surprise. "Why didn't somebody tell me?"

"Quite frankly, Jon, we've had more important things on their minds. Besides, it's possible that neither of the commanders will have much time to talk; they're pretty busy right now."

"Doing what?"

"They're working for Starfleet Intelligence."

"What!" As the words burst from his lips, Jon noticed out of the corner of his eye that Malcolm's head spun in their direction. Obviously this was a surprise to him, as well.

"T'Pol I can understand," Archer said before Gardner could respond, "but Trip? Why? He's an engineer."

"Admiral Tamura seems to be satisfied with the job he's been doing."

"The only things he knows about spying come from watching old James Bond movies." Archer started to get to his feet but sat back down again when he remembered that the low ceiling would make pacing difficult, if not impossible. "He'll get himself killed."

"He almost died on _Enterprise_, Jon," Gardner replied softly. "As members of Starfleet, it's a chance we all take. You know that."

"But why go looking for trouble?" Archer squeezed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He wasn't sure why he still felt so protective of Trip – their relationship had certainly been difficult of late – but it was apparently a hard habit for him to break. "The last time he went undercover, it took Terra Prime about thirty seconds to figure out his true identity and take him prisoner. He's too good an engineer to be put at the mercy of some bastard like Harris."

"I agree. He has the potential to be an important part of our Warp 7 Program. That's why he's working with Admiral Tamura and not some loose cannon like Harris. You don't have to worry about Tucker; he can take care of himself."

"Sure he can."

_Maybe asking to see Trip hadn't been too smart after all_, Jon thought as, jaw clenched, he stared out the front viewport. With the fate of Earth and the Coalition pressing down on him, he knew he wouldn't have the time or the energy to continue worrying about Trip; he had no choice but to cut his friend loose once and for all. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that no amount of diplomacy would forestall a confrontation with the Romulans. If that was the case, he couldn't afford the luxury of friends, especially a friend as close to him as Trip had been over the years. He had to think like a Vulcan: put aside emotion, harden his heart and depend on logic to point him in the right direction. Too bad the prospect made him feel so empty.

"We've just received landing instructions," Reed said. "The Mish'Vatel Spacedock is straight ahead."

"Are the watchdogs still with us?" Gardner asked.

"Aye, sir. Judging by the sensor data, there is a heavy fighter cover around the spacedock. The Vulcans appear to be expecting trouble."

Archer rose and headed toward the front of the shuttle. As he slid into the co-pilot's seat he asked, "Any signs of the Andorians?"

"One ship – a battle cruiser moored in one of the bays."

"And Shran?"

Malcolm turned to look at Jon. "One Andorian life sign. He's there, sir."

"Good." Archer leaned back in the seat. "That's good."

As Malcolm banked the shuttlepod to starboard, a huge launch bay portal opened in front of them.

_Maybe now_, Jon thought, _I'll finally get some answers. Maybe things will begin to make sense_.

To be continued…


	19. Chapter 19

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** My sincere thanks to everyone for the reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta.

CHAPTER 19: TRIP

"This shouldn't have happened," Trip said as he continued to stare out the floor-to-ceiling viewport which ran along the side of one of the six main docking bays in the Mish'Vatel Spacedock. The scorch marks and twisted metal on the hull of the Andorian battle cruiser, _Khyzreth_, moored in front of him told a graphic tale of the Andorians' recent confrontation with the Vulcan fleet.

"Agreed," T'Pol murmured from behind him. "Unfortunately, it does not come as a surprise. The animosity and distrust between Vulcans and Andorians run too deep."

"I know you're right, but it's still hard for me to accept." Trip raised his left hand and rested it against the glass. "She took quite a beating."

Reaching around his left side, T'Pol placed her hand over his and moved in closer behind her husband. "The Andorians were fortunate; it could have been far worse. Admiral Kiran obviously exercised restraint."

"Restraint? You call that restraint?"

"You read the after-action report Minister Vaaris passed along to us. You know there were only two casualties on the _Khyzreth_. If the Vulcan fleet had made use of all of its resources, no one would have survived."

Trip squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "It just never seems to end, does it? The killing…the violence."

"Trip…"

"I was so naïve when I first left Earth, T'Pol. Life was going to be one grand adventure. I was going to blast off to all sorts of exotic places. Discover new species. See new phenomena I couldn't even begin to imagine." He shook his head sadly. "Things haven't exactly turned out the way I'd envisioned."

"You have seen some memorable sights and met a number of interesting people over the years." T'Pol slowly began to rub his back "You know that it is unwise to dwell on the negative aspects of things."

Trip opened his eyes and focused his attention on the graceful hand of his wife. It looked so small and delicate atop his; it also looked so very right. What the hell, he decided. There was no point feeling low when he was standing next to a beautiful, voluptuous woman. Pulling his hand from under hers, he started to turn so his back would be against the glass. T'Pol ducked slightly as his left arm swung up and over her head. One arm settled comfortably around her shoulders while his other arm circled her waist and pulled her close.

"That's true," Trip murmured. "I've seen some incredible sights. As for people, there's only one who really matters." He leaned forward and brushed his lips slowly over hers. "You."

The kiss that followed was short and sweet and filled with promise.

"We haven't had much time alone lately," he whispered as he stared into the welcoming depths of her soft brown eyes.

"Shouldn't we be more discreet?" She glanced over his shoulder toward the viewport.

"Lieutenant Komas told me that all the viewports along the docking bays have recently been fitted with one-way glass. We can see out, but from outside they look like solid walls." With her head turned slightly, he decided to take advantage of the situation and began to gently nibble her right ear. "I checked it out. Komas was right."

"Are you sure we won't be disturbed?"

Trip smiled as he kissed his way across her cheek, headed for her full, luscious lips. "We have the room all to ourselves. The technicians who normally use this office have all been sent planet-side for the duration of the briefing."

"Then I believe you can do better than this," T'Pol replied as she began to rub both hands slowly over his torso, encouraging him.

This time the kiss was anything but soft and sweet. There was an urgency about it which seemed to be born from the uncertainty and sudden violence of the world in which they lived.

When their lips finally parted, Trip whispered, "Is that more like it?"

His hand moved from around her waist and traveled up to cup one of her breasts. Since she was wearing her robes to placate the Vulcans, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as it might have been, but it still gave him a rush. She was sharing herself with him and only with him. Damn, he was one lucky man.

"Yes, most satisfactory," she murmured

This time it was T'Pol who took the initiative, rubbing her body seductively against his, while she claimed him with a searing kiss. Trip, hormones surging, responded by spinning her around so that her back was up against the glass. Freeing one hand, T'Pol grabbed the zipper pull tab and yanked it down, unzipping his uniform. She shifted slightly, lips still locked on his, then snaked her hand inside his uniform. After receiving some expert attention from her supple fingers, Trip knew he was on the fast track to paradise. The only thing that could make it better was skin on skin. The clothes had to go. He was just about to take action when T'Pol hit a particularly sensitive spot and all thoughts of disrobing were temporarily put on hold. Instead, he threw back his head, moaning in sheer ecstasy.

"I gave you two 'adjoining' rooms so this sort of thing wouldn't be necessary."

T'Pol barely had time to jerk her hand free before a slightly disoriented Trip spun around toward the sound of the voice. There was Admiral Tamura standing in the doorway, a reproachful look on his face.

Trip tried to remind himself that he was a grown man – a married man – but he still felt like a teenager whose dad had just been caught him smooching with his girlfriend on the family couch. He glanced guiltily at T'Pol, but aside from a slight flush to her cheeks, she appeared to be completely composed. Too bad the bond didn't make it possible for her to share a little of that poise with him.

"I take it there are some early arrivals?" she said calmly, as though Trip fumbling to zip his uniform in front of a Starfleet vice admiral was a perfectly normal occurrence.

"The High Council's shuttle just landed. Admiral Gardner's isn't far behind." Tamura pointed at Trip. "I have a job for you. Keep an eye on Admiral Kiran, but try to stay out from under foot. This situation is going to be difficult enough without you making things worse."

Trip sighed and gave a reluctant nod in acknowledgement. Forget keeping out from under foot. If he was going to make this work, he was going to have to be the invisible man; Kiran wouldn't want him anywhere close to his vicinity.

"Commander T'Pol," Tamura said, "I want you to stay close to Minister Vaaris. He still isn't well, but his support is critical. Let me know if he begins to tire."

T'Pol nodded.

"From there," Tamura continued, "you should be able to monitor the reactions of the other members of the High Council. You're familiar with Vulcan body language. We need leverage. Try to find a chink in their armor."

Trip could tell that T'Pol wasn't exactly comfortable with this assignment, but she lifted her chin and said, "Aye, sir."

"We're going to meet in the control room. Ambassador Belliveau thinks the conference room is too cramped, given the volatile personalities we're going to be dealing with, and I agree with him. Better to let everyone spread out. Maybe they won't feel so threatened."

"I think it'll take more than a little extra elbow room," Trip said doubtfully.

"We better hope not." Tamura turned sideways and swung his right arm in a wide arc down then up again and pointed off to his left. "Now get going. And keep your minds on business."

"Aye, sir," the two commanders said simultaneously and headed to the control room with T'Pol in the lead. Trip didn't' say a word. He knew his wife was more than a little miffed that he hadn't taken the time to secure the door once she'd brought it to his attention. He knew he'd been wrong, but at the time he had far more important things on his mind. With a sigh, he came to the conclusion that in some ways wives were all pretty much alike, regardless of species. Make one little mistake and they give you the silent treatment. Oh well, he'd just have to make it up to her later when he could guarantee that they wouldn't be disturbed.

Instead of trying to converse, he decided to play it safe and take a closer look at his surroundings. Unfortunately there wasn't much to see; the spacedock was strictly blue collar. The metal walls were unadorned. Everything was strictly functional, without the aesthetic touches he'd seen on the _Tar'hana_. As an engineer, he felt right at home. As a visitor, though, he was a little disappointed that aside from the signage, there was little here that was uniquely Vulcan.

One corridor lead to another, each one guarded by silent, heavily armed members of the Ministry of Security. As they neared the control room, they passed a sublieutenant who was methodically taking readings from deck to ceiling, a sure sign that security personnel were still sweeping for explosives, booby traps and surveillance devices. With this sector of space teetering on the brink of war, it was just as well that the Vulcans were taking no chances.

As soon as the two commanders entered the control room, it was apparent that the High Council had turned out in force; T'Pau, Kuvak, Kiran, T'Lan, Vaaris, Herac, and Tel were all standing in the center of the room, deep in conversation. Even the elderly Minister Sulin had managed to rise from his sick bed to attend. However, judging by the bitter looks the old man was casting in Admiral Kiran's direction, Trip had a feeling that Sulin's attendance was more than likely a command performance.

The large circular control room, which was the nerve center of the spacedock, had three doors evenly spaced around the perimeter. Between these three entry points stretched three floor-to-ceiling viewscreens. Facing each viewscreen was a long curved work station which could easily accommodate half a dozen people. The central area between the work stations, where the members of the High Council were now clustered like cattle in a holding pen, was apparently kept open to allow workers to move freely from one station to another.

The viewscreen to the left showed the portion of the Beta Quadrant which stretched from Andoria to Vulcan. Most ships in the area were identified and color coded, including those belonging to other members of the Coalition: Vulcan ships in red, Andorian in blue, Coridian in green, etc. Unidentified ships were tracked with a broken yellow line. Fortunately there weren't very many mystery ships today, and none anywhere close to Vulcan.

The screen to the right monitored traffic around the planet Vulcan: ships in orbit, shuttles, and freighter traffic, both loading and unloading.

Trip glanced over his shoulder. The screen behind him gave detailed readings of activity in and around the Mish'Vatel Spacedock. Aside from the Andorian battle cruiser, _Khyzreth,_ two Vulcan ships, the battle cruiser _Kit'es_ and the cargo ship _Mashya_ were in for repairs. T'Pol's lessons in basic Vulcan enabled him to read just enough so that he could tell the itemized lists next to each vessel were records of finished work and repairs yet to be completed. He tilted his head as he tried to unscramble the words. From what he could decipher, nothing looked too critical, except for the battle damage to the Andorian ship. That list was long, extending almost down to the bottom of the screen. As Trip heard T'Pol call his name, he idly wondered why the Vulcans were working so hard to repair an Andorian ship.

"I believe the High Priest would like to speak with us," T'Pol said and looked off to the right.

Trip followed her line of sight and saw Torok exchanging words with three ambassadors: Soval, V'Lar and Belliveau. Gently taking T'Pol's elbow, Trip steered her over to the group.

Before Trip could open his mouth in greeting, Torok said in a hushed voice, "Has Admiral Tamura given you your assignments?"

"Yes," Trip replied, then dipped his head in the direction of the High Council. "But I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb if I try to get close to that group."

Torok stared at him. "It will not be necessary for you to stand next to the admiral, just watch him. Kiran won't be satisfied until Vulcan is at war with the Andorians. Do what you can to keep him from destroying everything we've been working so hard to accomplish."

"That man barely tolerates being in the same room with me," Trip whispered anxiously. "He won't listen to a word I have to say. If you can't control him, how do you expect me to?"

"Don't underestimate yourself."

"I can't work miracles, no matter how hard I try."

"You aren't alone in this, Commander," Ambassador V'Lar said. "We all have duties to perform."

T'Pol gave her husband's hand a subtle squeeze. When he turned her way, she fixed him with a look that told him she had complete confidence in him. There was no way he could fight against that.

Without missing a beat she turned her attention to the other people standing with them. "Ambassador V'Lar is correct. I think it is time I find Minister Vaaris a seat."

"Good idea," Ambassador Belliveau said. "He still looks very weak. And judging by Minister Sulin's unhealthy complexion, I'd say he could probably use a chair, too."

"Excuse me." With a nod of the head, T'Pol turned and headed for Vaaris and the other members of the High Council.

Trip watched with pride as his wife set about her task. She moved into the herd like a well-trained cow pony, cut out Minister Vaaris, and got him seated in a chair at one of the work stations. Then while the rest of the herd was still milling about, she went after Sulin. The old man tried to put up a fight, but Trip could have told him to save his breath. Sometimes it was best to just accept the inevitable.

"Admiral Gardner's here," Belliveau said.

Trip looked to his left just in time to see the admiral walk into the control room, stop, and take a quick look around. Minister T'Pau immediately came forward to greet her Human colleagues, but Trip barely noticed. His attention was focused solely on the two men who were following in the admiral's wake. Three pairs of eyes met simultaneously, but much to Trip's surprise Archer hesitated, then after saying a few words to Malcolm, turned to greet T'Pau.

Trip wasn't sure what he'd expected. He and Archer hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, but just now he'd seen a quick smile of recognition on the captain's face. He couldn't have read that wrong. Archer was glad to see him – he knew it. But what did he feel? Was there anything left of their friendship? Or had the man who'd once been his best friend turned his back on him one time too many?

"Commander!"

Trip's face lit up when he saw Malcolm walking toward him. Reed was the only man he knew who could utter an exclamation that was so subdued that it was perfectly acceptable in polite society. Damn, he'd missed him! Trip extended his hand and Malcolm shook it with an unusual display of emotion.

"It's good to see you," Malcolm said. "We heard that the charges against you had been dropped."

"Thanks to you."

Malcolm beamed at the compliment. "There were plenty of others who pitched in to help. You've got a lot of friends, you know."

Trip's eyes strayed over to where Archer was greeting the other members of the High Council.

"Yes, him too," Malcolm said, apparently reading his mind. Trip must have looked unconvinced because he added, "He wouldn't let us quit. He kept telling anyone who would listen that you were innocent. Without his cooperation, we wouldn't have had the time or the manpower to get the job done." Reed paused and looked closely at his friend. "He's missed you a lot, Trip – you and T'Pol."

Trip wanted to believe what Malcolm was telling him, but he wasn't sure it was the smart thing to do. Who was the real Jonathan Archer? Was he the man he'd known for most of his professional life, a good friend and loyal supporter? Or was he the man who had visited him in the brig and angrily told him that his days of serving on _Enterprise_ were over? Over the years stress, guilt and grief had taken a toll on both of them. Were they both so changed that is was impossible for their friendship to survive?

"Trip?"

Seeing Reed's concerned face, Trip snapped back to the present. "I appreciate you telling me, Malcolm. Thanks."

"By the way, he wants to talk to you when this is over." Malcolm ran a hand over the back of his neck as he glanced quickly around the room to see if they might be overheard. Apparently he was satisfied because he added barely above a whisper, "Gardner just dumped the whole Vulcan-Andorian mess into Captain Archer's lap. I have a feeling he's going to need your help."

_So much for friendship_, Trip thought ruefully. _I bet it's going to be back to business as usual_.

Trip started to ask about _Enterprise_, but a closer look at his friend's uniform reminded him that he had some unfinished business. Flicking his fingers at the shiny new pip on Reed's uniform, he said "I see congratulations are in order. It's about time you got a promotion, Commander."

"Thank you." Malcolm beamed. "It was a long time coming."

"You know what they say: Good things come to those who wait."

"Nonsense. Starfleet is just beginning to realize my true worth. You'd better watch your step, Mr. Tucker, or someday you'll be taking orders from me."

When Trip's smile faltered slightly, Malcolm seemed to realize that he might have said the wrong thing.

"Trip, I didn't mean…"

"Don't give it a second thought." Trip clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you."

The door slid open again and all heads turned as Admiral Tamura walked in. Shran followed close behind, sandwiched between Lieutenant Komas and Major Luvan of the Ministry of Security. Trip was relieved to see that there were no shackles on Shran's hands or feet; this situation had to be difficult enough for the Andorian without any visible restraints.

Archer immediately headed for Shran. Komas held out a hand, halting the captain, but after a few words from Luvan, Archer was given the green light to greet his friend. Trip couldn't hear what was being said, but he had a feeling Shran wasn't listening; the Andorian's attention was focused like a laser on Admiral Kiran, who in turn glared back at him.

Trip saw Malcolm tense. They were both aware of how much damage a confrontation could do at this point. Evidently Archer also realized the situation was approaching a boiling point because he grabbed Shran's arm and forced him to make eye contact. After a few heated words, the Andorian sullenly throttled back on the animosity. Trip hoped the captain could keep Shran under control; Andorians weren't noted for their ability to forgive and forget.

Suddenly T'Pau clapped her hands, drawing people's attention to her. She didn't say anything at first, just stuck both hands up her sleeves while she waited for everyone to get settled. Fortunately, this was a group that wanted to get down to business. A few people took seats, but most chose to remain standing.

When everyone was quiet, T'Pau said, "As you know, the Andorians have threatened to retaliate if Commander Shran and the others are not returned to them. Our ambassadors have spent long hours in negotiations. So far they've managed to keep the Andorians talking, but the situation has reached a critical point; there was even the mention of a declaration of war. Vulcan and United Earth must decide on a course of action." She then asked Admiral Kiran to update those in attendance on the most recent threat to peace. Trip watched along with the others as Kiran stepped over to the large viewscreen showing the area of space between Andoria and Vulcan.

"The Andorians are preparing an attack force," Kiran said as a line of blue ships appeared on the screen. "At first I thought this was only an attempt to form a defensive screen around Andoria, but within the last six hours, additional ships have moved into position" – more ships appeared on the screen as the admiral pointed in their direction – "here…here…here…and here. There is no question that the Andorians are forming squadrons. Each squadron has been carefully positioned to strike directly at Vulcan or one of her territories." The admiral clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the members of the High Council. "We cannot afford to wait any longer. We must move our ships into position at once to protect Vulcan."

"I agree." Minister Sulin brought a frail fist down on the surface of the work station in front of him. "Diplomacy is not the answer. It is pointless to deal with people who do not know the meaning of honor. We must fight."

"While I am not an advocate of war," Minister T'Lan said in her soft, high-pitched voice, "I, too, am convinced that this situation can no longer be resolved by diplomacy."

Trip thought her voice sounded close. He looked to the right and was surprised to see that she had taken a seat close to him; only the work station stood between them. She tilted her head to one side and – if he didn't know better – he would almost swear she batted her eyelashes in his direction. But no, that couldn't be. Maybe she just had something in her eye.

"In this instance," T'Lan continued, her gaze still fixed on Trip, "I believe Admiral Kiran is correct. We should move at once to meet this threat."

"And you would be wrong," Shran exclaimed. "You'd be playing right into the Chancellor's hands…and the Romulan's."

Lieutenant Komas roughly grabbed Shran's arm to silence him as low murmurs swept through the room. Shran, however, wasn't interested in being silenced.

Jerking his arm free of Komas' grip, he shouted, "I think it's about time you listen to what I have to say! You have no idea what you're up against!"

"Minister T'Pau," Archer said quickly, before anyone made any further derogatory remarks, "Commander Shran makes a good point. I think we should hear him out."

"A few of us in this room are already aware of the circumstances which brought Commander Shran to us," T'Pau said. "Perhaps now would be the best time to confide in the rest of you."

"And how do we know that we can trust him?" Sulin demanded, pointing a gnarled finger in Shran's direction. "Andorians are liars and cowards."

Shran defiantly took a step forward, but Archer stretched his arm in front of the Andorian, stopping him. "Shran is not a liar," Archer said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. Trip saw Admiral Gardner cast a warning look in Archer's direction, but the captain didn't appear to be willing to take the hint. "Earth would not be here today if it wasn't for his help. I think it's time we listened to him."

"We have confirmed," Minister Vaaris said, "that Commander Shran is telling the truth. It would be wise to pay heed to what he has to say."

T'Pau looked around the room, silencing any further comments, before motioning toward Shran. "Please begin, Commander."

Archer dropped his arm and whispered a few words to Shran. The Andorian angrily shook his head then stalked over to the spot recently occupied by T'Pau. His rigid stance and alert antennae were a clear indication that he was barely controlling his temper.

Trip felt a nudge in his back and turned to see Torok slowly lowering his cane. The high priest tilted his head to the right and made a subtle shooing motion with his free hand. Trip dipped his head once acknowledging message received and understood, then tapped Malcolm lightly on the arm and mouthed, "Let's go." The two men quickly made their way along the back of the room, always keeping wary eyes on Shran. Trip wasn't sure what they could do to put a damper on the rising tensions, but they couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Shran said, "We are refugees, not assault troops." He pointed toward Kiran. "I told you our intentions were peaceful. I told you we had women and children on board our ships, but you still fired on us. Your attack was totally unprovoked!"

Kiran thrust his chest out, ready to do battle. "You brought warships toward Vulcan space. I will not allow…"

"You destroyed one of our ships!"

"They fired on us." Kiran's voice was carefully controlled, but a greenish tinge was quickly spreading across his face.

As Trip and Malcolm moved to flank the Andorian, Archer motioned for Komas and Luvan to back off. Then he grabbed Shran by the arm and spun him around so that his back was to Kiran.

Archer attempted to reason with the Andorian, but he'd barely started before Shran tried to pull away, shouting over his shoulder at Kiran, "You killed innocent people!"

"There is nothing innocent about Andorian predators," Kiran snapped.

"They were no threat to you!"

"Settle down, Shran," Archer said sharply.

Trip couldn't make up his mind if Shran was courageous or just downright crazy. He was the lone Andorian in a room full of Vulcans. Common sense would seem to dictate that this was the time to throttle back on the anger and get down to business. Trip could sympathize with Shran's plight, but he knew that if you poked a bear with a stick long enough, odds are you were going to get bit.

"Kiran is right," Sulin hissed. "Those people cannot be trusted."

When the words became more heated, Torok thumped his cane on the deck. When he didn't get the desired result he whacked his cane a couple of times on the work station to his left.

"Enough," he snapped. To Trip, he looked exactly like one of the Old Testament prophets his grandma had told him about; all he needed was a long white beard to make the resemblance complete. "You are behaving like children. These outbursts will accomplish nothing. If we are to make progress today we must put aside our animosity and try to find a way to work together."

Shran clenched both hands into fists as he fought to regain his composure. "Work together!" he spat, then gestured angrily toward the members of the High Council. "These…people have no intention of working with me. This is nothing but a waste of time."

"You obviously wanted help or you wouldn't have left your home planet," Torok said. "I cannot guarantee that everyone in this room will give you a fair hearing, but most are willing to listen. Now do you want our help or don't you?"

"I've been trying for three weeks to find out why you came looking for me." Archer still kept hold of Shran although he appeared to have loosened his grip slightly. "You know you can trust me. If there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it. Tell me what happened. Why did you leave Andoria?"

Shran stared at Archer as though trying to read his inner thoughts.

"Talk to me, Shran," Archer coaxed. "One friend to another."

Finally Shran nodded and said, "We left because we could not support our government's alliance with the Romulan Empire."

Archer looked a bit perplexed. "The last time we talked about the possibility of a Romulan alliance, you didn't sound too bothered by the prospect."

"That was before."

"Before what?" Archer shifted his weight impatiently. "Come on, Shran, I've never liked guessing games."

Shran lifted his chin defiantly. "Before the Chancellor handed over the Aenar."

Archer stared blankly at Shran. "He did what?"

This time it was Shran's turn to show impatience. "I think I made myself clear, pinkskin. The Romulans made the acquisition of the Aenar a non-negotiable condition of an alliance. It didn't take the Chancellor and his spineless sycophants long to agree."

"But why? What could they possibly gain by betraying the Aenar?"

"Would you allow me to assist you, Commander?" Minister Vaaris said from his seat at the work station directly in front of Shran. The Andorian hesitated than grudgingly nodded in agreement. As soon as permission was granted, Vaaris changed the display on the viewscreen to include part of the Alpha Quadrant. "Perhaps this will be of some help." Vaaris waved a delicate hand in Shran's direction. "Please continue."

Shran studied Vaaris closely, but apparently saw nothing but honest concern on the minister's face because he turned his attention back to the viewscreen.

"It's really very simple," Shran said, pointing toward Vulcan. "The Andorian government's sole reason…"

"This is absurd," Sulin exclaimed, cutting off Shran in mid sentence. 'The Aenar are Andorians, aren't they?" He swiveled his head from side to side, apparently seeking confirmation. "Vaaris, isn't that correct?"

"Yes," Vaaris replied. "If you will recall, Minister, the High Council first became aware of the Aenar when the Romulan drone ship attacked _Enterprise_. They are a subspecies of the Andorians and possess highly developed telepathic abilities."

"That is what I thought." Sulin waved his hand dismissively. "If the Andorians want to eliminate each other, why should we care? It just makes our job easier."

"I've seen those drone ships in action, Minister," Archer said with a distinct edge to his voice. "Believe me, we don't want a whole fleet of those on the loose. If the Aenar have been turned over to the Romulans, we have a real problem on our hands."

"How do we know this is true?" Herac said. When Shran and Archer bristled at the apparent slight, he added, "This Andorian may believe the Aenar were given to the Romulans, but that does not necessarily make it so. He may have misunderstood." Shran angrily began to shake his head. "Or he may have intentionally been given misleading information and then pointed toward Vulcan to stir up trouble. Andorians cannot be trusted."

"Where did you get this information?" Archer asked Shran. "Are you sure the source was reliable?" He placatingly raised both hands, palms forward, when Shran started to protest. "I believe you, but there are other people who need to be convinced. Tell them what they need to know."

Shran curled his lip as he glared at Herac. "During the negotiations with the Romulans, a member of our diplomatic delegation contacted me. He was a close family friend and knew I had contacts in Starfleet. He warned me that the Aenar were in danger."

"The man's name?" Herac asked.

"That is not important," Shran said. "Besides he's dead now – killed for revealing classified information."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Shran spat back. "The Chancellor put his body on public display as a warning to others who entertained thoughts of treason."

"But that didn't stop you."

"As a member of the Imperial Guard, it is my duty to protect Andoria!"

"And you think you can accomplish that by betraying your government?" huffed Kiran.

"The Chancellor has been blinded by dreams of conquest. He is no longer interested in what is best for the Andorian people."

"Conquest," Kiran crowed. "I thought so. You want to make war on Vulcan."

Trip quickly looked around the room. Surely someone would step up and take charge of this sorry excuse for a briefing, but no one seemed ready to take the initiative. They were probably just used to treading lightly around Kiran, but that was bullshit. It was time for straight talk. He knew Admiral Tamura had told him not to make waves, but so what. His career was already down the dumper. Since he had nothing to lose, maybe this was a service only he could provide.

Throwing caution to the wind, Trip stuck both hands on his hips and blurted out, "So what are you afraid of?"

All talk ceased immediately as heads spun in Trip's direction. He knew people were staring at him, but he couldn't care less. His attention was focused on one person, a Vulcan juggernaut with a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Kiran turned slowly.

"Are you speaking to me, Human?" he said, his voice honed to a razor-sharp edge.

"You were one person I had in mind."

"You should know by now that Vulcans don't experience fear. That emotion is left for lesser species." The look of distaste on Kiran's face left no doubt as to the identity of that "lesser species."

"Trip…" Malcolm reached over and grabbed his shoulder but Trip shook him off. Once he'd started, the only way someone was going to stop him was to carry him out, bound and gagged.

"You must be afraid of something" – Trip pointed a finger in Shran's direction – "or you'd be willing to hear this man out."

"Tucker!" Admiral Gardner was on his feet and furious.

"I do not have to explain my behavior to you," Kiran replied, ignoring Gardner's exclamation. "But it should be obvious to even someone of your limited abilities that this man is an enemy of the Vulcan people."

"Have you spoken to him? Have you listened to what he has to say?"

"I do not have to hear to the growl of a le-matya to know that it can destroy me."

Trip shook his head in disgust. "There's an old Earth saying: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Trip let that sink in a minute before adding, "How will you know what Shran is up to if you don't hear him out?"

The muscles in Kiran's jaw worked furiously as he struggled to come up with a crushing reply. Much to Trip's surprise, however, instead of a venom-laced tirade, the tension left Kiran's face as he once again assumed the take-charge stance of an admiral of the Vulcan fleet.

"Instead of your usual inane ramblings, you may have actually said something worthy of my attention. I listened to you once before, Human, and did not come to regret it. You are correct in stating that a wise man knows his enemies. I will listen to what this…person has to say, but only if you get out of my sight. I have had my fill of your insolence."

Trip wanted to grin as he saw the astonished looks on faces around the room, but he knew it would be inappropriate. Kiran would be upset by it, and he didn't want to offend the man who had just made a major and very public concession to him. Instead, he gave a respectful nod in Kiran's direction and then moved out of his line of sight.

Without further ado, Kiran turned to Shran and condescendingly motioned for him to continue. Shran hesitated, suspicious of this abrupt turnaround, but finally Archer gave him a push in the right direction.

"You came looking for _Enterprise_. You wanted my help. Why? What did you think I could do?"

"We were seeking asylum and I knew you could arrange it. Besides ships of the Imperial Guard were pursuing us, and because of the transports' slower speed, I knew we could never reach Earth in time. _Enterprise_ was our best option."

"Were you being pursued because of the information you're carrying?"

"Yes, and also because we managed to smuggle some of the Aenar out before the Imperial Guard sealed off the Northern Wastes."

"Jhamel?"

"Yes, Jhamel is with us," Shran said. "We could have saved more – we wanted to save all of them – but we had so little time." He paused. "Somehow they became convinced that we were planning a violent overthrow of the government."

"And since the Aenar deplore violence," Archer said, "they refused to leave."

"Yes." Anger and indignation colored his face a deeper shade of blue. "We tried to change their minds, to make them aware of the dangers they faced, but nothing would sway them. They thought they could trust the Chancellor. They were fools."

"And now your government is willing to declare war to get you back." Archer shook his head. "This has to be about more than just saving face."

"The Romulans do not accept failure," Minister Vaaris said. "The Andorians promised to deliver the Aenar and now over one hundred of them are in our hands. This poses a serious problem for the Chancellor. If the Andorians want to remain equal partners in the alliance, they cannot afford to let this defection go unchallenged."

"I agree," T'Pol said. "It is also possible that the Romulans are concerned that the Aenar will fall into Starfleet's hands. The situation surrounding Gareb's death would probably lead them to believe that we, too, have been working on a viable telepresence unit. Since the Romulans have no compunctions about enslaving the Aenar, they would no doubt think that Humans would do likewise."

"And create our own fleet of drone ships?" Archer said.

"Yes."

"We are going to help these people, aren't we?" Archer scanned the faces in the room. "I know there's a lot at stake here, but we can't build a Coalition by turning away people who come to us for help."

"There is no place for Andorians on Vulcan," Sulin said. "For all we know they could be infiltrators sent to destroy us."

"Perhaps if we returned the ships," T'Lan said, ignoring Sulin's outburst.

"Absolutely not," Kiran said firmly. "They are now the property of the Vulcan fleet."

"Although many of you appear to place little value in attempting to find a diplomatic solution," Soval said, "Ambassador Belliveau and I believe that it is our best option. We have been working to secure a promise of support from the other members of the Coalition. The Coridans were the first to agree, which is not surprising given the Andorian government's support for the rebel faction on their planet. The Tellarites have also agreed to stand with the Coalition. The Rigelians and Denobulans have agreed in principle; we expect formal confirmation from them in the next couple of days."

"Even with Romulan assistance, I doubt that the Andorians are prepared to go to war under those circumstances," Belliveau said.

"And the attack force pointed toward Vulcan?" Admiral Kiran didn't look convinced.

"The Andorians may just be trying to run a bluff," Archer said. "The Chancellor wouldn't be the first man to use a show of force to try to get what he wants."

"I know you don't trust us" – Shran looked pointedly at the Vulcans – "but we stand ready to fight for the Coalition. The Romulans cannot be allowed to wreak havoc on this sector of space. We have knowledge which could be of use to you."

"You would fight with Vulcans against your own people?" There was a rather strident tone in Minister T'Lan's voice. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it." Shran stuck both hands on his hips and glared at T'Lan. "We are prepared to do whatever is necessary to free our world from the Romulans."

Archer clapped a hand on Shran's shoulder. "I'm glad to hear you say that. It just so happens that I have an opening for a tactical officer on _Enterprise_. Would you be interested?"

Shran looked at him in surprise.

"I know it wouldn't be the same as having a ship of your own, but…"

"Jon." Admiral Gardner was on his feet again. "Before you make any promises, we need to talk about this, but now isn't the time."

"I'm only trying to recruit the best man for the job, Admiral," Archer replied. "I know Shran and know what he can do. That's more than I can say about any other replacement. And right now we need the best people available."

"All right, Jon." Gardner didn't look happy, but he appeared to be a little more resigned to Archer's choice. "We'll talk about this on the way back to _Enterprise_. Maybe we can work something out."

"That's all I ask."

Trip thought Archer looked rather pleased with himself, but then why not. If this worked, other Andorians might someday be allowed to serve on Starfleet ships. In the event of war, a little extra manpower could always come in handy, especially if that manpower was experienced and motivated. Now all they had to do was convince the Vulcans to trust the Andorian defectors and they were in business.

"Just a moment," Herac said coldly. "Before Starfleet attempts to seize prisoners in our custody, perhaps it would be best if we understand the entire situation. We know what the Andorians were willing to cede to the Romulans, but what did they demand in return?"

Trip wondered, not for the first time, how Minister Herac was handling the death of his son, Koss. The man never seemed to show much interest in his son and heir, but maybe that was normal for a Vulcan male. Trip hoped so. He didn't like Koss, but he couldn't forget that the man had saved T'Pol's life. Besides, it rubbed Trip the wrong way to think that anyone – even his former rival – had met his death unloved.

"My informant indicated that the Romulans' offer was very simple and straightforward," Shran said. "They promised to eliminate Andoria's enemies."

"That is absurd," Kiran exclaimed. "It cannot be done."

"Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but the Romulans appear to be confident in their ability to deliver."

"And they have the audacity to include Vulcan?"

"Yes. Supposedly Vulcan's subjugation has already begun."

"You mentioned enemies, plural," Archer said before Kiran could protest further.

"It doesn't take much imagination to figure that out. The Chancellor wants to eliminate the Tellarites as a threat."

"And the Romulans agreed to do it?"

"Of course." Shran turned toward the viewscreen and waved a hand over the entire sector. "Once they've eliminated their primary adversaries, Andoria and the Romulan Star Empire would supposedly share joint control, but you know as well as I do that the Romulans share with no one." He pointed to Tellar, Vulcan and Andoria, loosely tracing a triangle. "This area would fall under the control of the Romulan Empire, giving them a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant. Only one major obstacle stands in the way of their plans."

Shran pointed towards Earth.

"And how do they plan to eliminate Earth?" Archer asked quietly. "War?"

"Only as a last resort. The Romulans prefer to destroy from within. Vulcan is proof of that."

"And the other members of the Coalition?" Minister Tel asked in a voice laced with skepticism. "Are they to be spared this cataclysm?"

"My information doesn't extend beyond what I've already told you," Shran growled in reply, "but it should be obvious to anyone with two good eyes and a brain. Once the Romulans have conquered our worlds" – he pointed toward Coridan and the Rigelian home world near the bottom of the viewscreen and then over to Denobula Triaxa, which lay to the left of Tellar – "the outlying planets can be picked off, one at a time, at the Romulans' leisure."

"If this is true," Minister Kuvak said, "we have no choice but to strengthen our ties with our allies. The Coalition is our only hope for survival."

"It would be wise not to dismiss Commander Shran's information out of hand," Admiral Tamura said. "Starfleet Intelligence has only recently been able to confirm an important part of his story. We have received reliable information that the attacks on the Tellarite cargo ships were orchestrated by the Romulans." Minister Vaaris' head snapped up. Evidently this was news to him. It was certainly the first Trip had heard about it. "Before they handed over the Aenar, the Andorians wanted tangible proof of the Romulans ability to deliver on their promises. The Chancellor must have been satisfied because the relocation of the Aenar has already begun."

"I question the validity of your information," Kiran said. "The _Tal'Kir_ was first on the scene after one of the attacks. There was nothing to indicate that the Romulans were anywhere near the vicinity. Someone else must have been responsible for these outrages."

"Not every criminal does his own dirty work," Tamura replied.

"You Humans are obsessed with the Romulans. Perhaps you should not be so quick to dismiss the Tellarites' other enemies."

"It would be a waste of time to debate this further," Tamura said. "Eventually the reality of the situation will be brought home to you, Admiral. I just hope you don't wait too long to take action."

"You take care of Earth, Admiral Tamura, and I'll take care of Vulcan." Kiran's chest was puffed out so far it looked as though it was about to burst.

"We may not be able to do anything for the Aenar who have been handed over to the Romulans," Archer said tightly, "but what about those who came with Shran? They're pacifist. They don't pose a danger to anyone."

"They're fine where they are for the moment," Tamura replied. "The food and accommodations are adequate; they are not being mistreated. But it's only a short term solution. Some decisions will need to be made soon."

"Keep them away from Vulcan!" Sulin exclaimed. "They are spies – all of them." He pointed to the viewscreen. "The Andorians are readying their invasion force while we sit here and procrastinate."

"I understand your concerns, Minister," Vaaris said in a soothing voice, "but these people are not the enemy. They are victims, nothing more."

"They still have no place on Vulcan." Pressing his thin lips together, Sulin thrust his bony chin forward. He obviously had no intention of changing his opinion any time soon.

"We could accommodate some of them in our Embassy," Ambassador Belliveau said, "but I'm not sure we'd have room for everyone."

"This is not your concern," Herac said. "These people are our prisoners."

"We've done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment!" Shran shouted. "We're refugees. Refugees!"

"Normally I'd say take them to Earth, but that might be difficult." When Shran started to protest, Archer gripped his shoulder and said, "Hear me out. The anti-alien movement appears to be gaining more followers every day. On top of that, the Aenar need seclusion and I'm not sure how we could guarantee that. We'd have to keep them locked away to protect them from trespassers; they'd be no better than prisoners."

T'Pau lifted a hand, silencing the group.

"It is my opinion that the Andorians should be treated as refugees. Who among the High Council agrees with me?"

Kuvak and Vaaris immediately raised their hands. Ministers T'Lan and Tel soon followed suit.

"Opposed," T'Pau said, and Kiran, Sulin and Herac raised their hands.

"The matter has been decided. Tomorrow the High Council will meet to find a permanent home for our guests." T'Pau gestured toward Shran. "We promise that you will not be returned to Andoria."

Trip knew that this was a huge concession for the Vulcans, but Shran didn't seem to realize what had just happened. Instead of gratitude, he turned angrily to face Archer.

"When you went into the Expanse, it wasn't the Vulcans who helped you" – He angrily thumped his chest – "it was me and my ship. Regardless of what is said here today, the Vulcans will always see us as prisoners. My people will disappear, never to be seen again." He jabbed a finger at Archer's chest. "And you, pinkskin, will have let it happen."

"I'm sorry, Shran." Archer raised both hands, palms up, to show that, under these circumstances, he was powerless. "There's nothing I can do."

"I don't believe that. You owe me!"

"Shran…"

"War is coming. You know that. If you don't, you're a fool."

"I'll say it again. There's nothing I can do. You're under the Vulcan's protection."

"I can assure you," Admiral Gardner said, "that we will give careful consideration to your offer to serve on Starfleet vessels."

"That's not enough."

"I'm afraid it's the best Starfleet can do right now."

Shran stood motionless, deep in thought. Finally he took a deep breath, like a diver preparing to jump off a high cliff into rocky waters.

"Starfleet is unprepared for war, and you know it," Shran said to Gardner. "Give us Commander Tucker and the proper facilities and we'll help you upgrade your vessels, inside and out." He pointed a finger at Kiran. "The Vulcans want to steal our technology. We'll give it to you willingly – as allies. Without our help, your ships will never be able to go up against the Romulans, especially if they use Andorian ships to help them fight their battles."

"Are you sure about this?" Archer asked. Trip knew just how he felt. It all sounded too good to be true. "Will your people go along with this, or are you speaking only for yourself?"

"It won't be easy, but it can to done," Shran said firmly. "But only with the help of Commander Tucker."

"I don't understand," Archer said. "Why Trip? I know he's the best engineer in Starfleet, but…"

Shran shook his head. "Commander Tucker is held in high regard by my people because he prevented a war between Vulcan and Andoria. His engineering abilities are just a bonus."

Trip was stunned, both by Shran's offer of assistance and his remarks about Trip's standing with the Andorian people. He couldn't help but feel humbled by it, even if Shran was probably stretching the truth to the breaking point. He snuck a peek at T'Pol. Her face remained impassive, but he knew she was proud of him and his accomplishments. Once again he was glad his wife was Vulcan. Their bond ensured that this moment was one that they alone could share.

"I'll take your offer back to Starfleet," Admiral Gardner said to Shran. For a change, there was a glint in the admiral's eye. "It's safe to say that they'll be very interested. Contact me as soon as your people have agreed to your plan, Commander Shran, and we'll take the next step." He paused. "Providing, of course, that we can get the cooperation of the Vulcans."

"Vulcan is not interested in giving away its military technology," Kiran said. "As for the Andorians, I've spent most of my life fighting these people. They cannot be trusted. They make promises, but all they deliver is death and destruction."

"We're willing to take that chance," Archer said.

"You presume too much," Minister Herac said coldly. "There is still a great deal these people can tell us, and we will not release them until it is in our possession."

"Commander Shran, I can assure you that your people will be well cared for," Minister Kuvak said. "They are our guests, not prisoners. But it would be irresponsible of us to turn them over to the Humans. As Captain  
Archer indicated, they are at present powerless to control the violence and hatred on their world." Trip noticed the look of chagrin on Archer's face, but the captain didn't call the minister on overstating the facts. "We can protect the Aenar and your fellow Andorians; they will be much safer with us."

Shran gritted his teeth as he scanned the faces in the room. "You talk about the Coalition, about strength in unity, but you only want it on your terms. Vulcans take; they never give. You see us as the enemy, but the enemy is out there, squeezing the life out of your planet, but you're too blind to see it." He focused his attention on Gardner. "My offer still stands, Admiral. Find a way to make it work and I guarantee that you won't regret it. With our help, Starfleet and the other members of the Coalition can make a stand against the Romulans. You won't need the Vulcans. They think they're superior to everyone else. Maybe this will finally give them a chance to prove it."

"That is enough," T'Pau said frostily. "We will continue this discussion at a later time. Major Luvan, escort Commander Shran to his quarters."

"Open your eyes before it's too late," Shran said, searching desperately for anyone who was willing to listen. "We can help you – we want to help – just give us the chance."

Just as Luvan and Komas were drawing near, Shran stuck out his hand and said, "Stop." Without uttering another word, he proudly drew himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders and marched from the room, the two Vulcans close on his heels.

Once they were gone, Trip became aware of the absolute silence in the room. No one got up to leave. No one spoke. The only motion came from heads which turned warily from side to side as people sized up members of the other species. It was as though a vast canyon had suddenly opened up between Vulcans and Humans, with no bridge in sight.

To be continued….


	20. Chapter 20

**THE BRIAR PATCH**

**By Dinah**

**Author's note:** My sincere thanks to everyone for the reviews. I also want to thank Blacknblue for being a marvelous beta.

CHAPTER 20: TRIP

As the members of the Vulcan High Council filed out of the control room in the Mish'Vatel Spacedock, Malcolm leaned over to Trip and murmured, "Well, that was a right royal mess."

Eyes fixed on the retreating Vulcans, Trip ran his tongue over his upper teeth and sighed. "Yeah, kinda like trying to stop a warp core breach. There's no avoiding the inevitable, no matter how hard you try."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Sulin doesn't carry much weight on the Council, but Kiran and Herac do. Somebody will have to try to reason with them…point out the logic of cooperating with the Andorians."

"And the chances for success?"

"Knowing Kiran, I wouldn't put any money on it. The hate runs too deep."

"He seems to listen to you."

Trip snorted. "Don't read too much into what you saw today. The admiral's only interested in what _he thinks_is best for Vulcan. If he believes I can help him with that, he might listen. If not . . ." He shrugged. "Even on good days he barely tolerates me. And believe me, those days are few and far between."

"Do you believe Shran?"

Realizing that this was getting into sensitive territory, Trip turned to face Malcolm and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I had a chance to talk to Shran. He's on the level."

"The Vulcans let you talk to Shran?" Malcolm blurted incredulously. Then realizing he might have been overheard, he glanced quickly left and right. "From what we'd heard," he continued in a hushed voice, "nobody but Admiral Tamura had been allowed to get close to him."

"I guess it pays to have friends in high places."

"So it's true. You are working for Starfleet Intelligence."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Mind-boggling," Malcolm smirked. "I only hope the universe is strong enough to survive."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"I can't imagine why anyone would think that you were cut out for intelligence work. And even if they did, why in heaven's name would you agree to such a posting. It's ludicrous."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Trip said wryly. "For your information, I wasn't given much of a choice in the matter. Orders are orders." Suddenly feeling the need to turn the tables, he paused, tongue set firmly in his cheek, and looked searchingly at Malcolm. "So what's your excuse?"

"My excuse? I don't . . ." Malcolm's eyes suddenly opened wide. "You know?"

Trip nodded.

"That's impossible," Malcolm said. "I know Captain Archer indicated that he was looking for a new tactical officer, but I only agreed to accept a posting to another ship earlier this morning."

"Another ship . . . right." Trip winked and pointed an index finger straight at Malcolm's chest. "You know that sounds real convincing. I'd almost believe it, if I didn't know better."

"You're just fishing. You found out I'm leaving _Enterprise_ and you think you can trick me into revealing my new berth. Well, you can't."

"I don't need to use tricks. I know where you're going. So does T'Pol." Trip was thoroughly enjoying being one step ahead of his friend for a change. "The admiral told us two days ago that you'd be joining us on _Warsaw_."

"He did what?" Malcolm sputtered indignantly. "How could he? _I_ didn't even know what I was going to do two days ago!"

Trip winced at the gradual rise in Malcolm's voice. "Hey, keep it down."

"You're implying that I'm predictable," Reed continued, toning it down only slightly. "I am never predictable. Nobody knows what's going on in my head but me."

"You won't get any argument here," Tucker said as he snuck a peek over his shoulder and saw that the Tamura was headed their way. "Heads up, we've got company."

Trip couldn't hide a grin when Reed snapped to attention as soon as he caught sight of the admiral. Even when he was pissed, Malcolm couldn't seem to forget his formal military training.

"If you two are finished comparing notes," Tamura said as he walked up to them, "it's time to get to work. Minister Vaaris has someone he wants us to meet before we return to _Warsaw_, someone who may be able to help us with the Romulan threat. Commander T'Pol and the minister are already headed toward the conference room. I suggest we get a move on."

"Excuse me, sir," Malcolm said rather tentatively, "but are you including me in this meeting?"

"Yes." A frown creased Tamura's blow. "Is there a problem?"

"Captain Archer expects me to return to _Enterprise_. He is still my commanding officer."

Tamura waved one hand dismissively. "I'll handle Archer. If you're going to be of any use to me, you're going to have to get up to speed as quickly as possible. The Romulans aren't going to sit quietly and twiddle their thumbs while you tidy up a few loose ends on _Enterprise_. I want someone who's focused on our enemies 24 hours a day, seven days a week, starting right now." The admiral lifted his chin aggressively. "Are you that man?"

"Yes, sir," Reed exclaimed without a moment's hesitation.

"Good." Tamura seemed to relax a little. "As soon as we're done here, we have to get back to _Warsaw_. Captain Jaracz will be calling in. He thinks he may have finally found an important lead."

"Jaracz?" Reed said with a confused look on his face.

Trip decided to take pity on Malcolm and give him a quick update. "Jaracz has been sorting through the collection of half-assed information he managed to extract from Commander Kelby. There have already been a number of arrests – all members of Terra Prime. Lately he's been working on some possible links between Terra Prime and the Peace Forever movement."

"But I thought Captain Jaracz was the head of Internal Affairs," Malcolm said as he looked from Tucker to Admiral Tamura and back again. "It makes sense for him to handle Commander Kelby's interrogation, but why isn't he handing off his findings to Starfleet Security?"

"I trust Captain Jaracz," Tamura said. "That's all you need to know."

"I see."

Trip could see the wheels turning as Malcolm processed yet another piece of pertinent information. He didn't think it would take long for the former Section 31 operative to become accustomed once again to life in the dark and violent world of interstellar espionage. And that was a damn shame. Trip had no doubts that Malcolm would be very good at his new job – he was good at anything he put his mind to – but what would be the cost to him personally? After dragging himself out of the muck and mire of Section 31 in the days before _Enterprise_, could he manage to do so once again when the Romulans no longer posed a threat to their quadrant?

Assuming, of course, that that day ever came, Trip thought dejectedly.

"I'll send you back to your ship as soon as we hear what Jaracz has to say," Tamura said to Reed. "Take a day to wrap things up on _Enterprise_ then I want you to report to me. I've already cleared your early departure with Admiral Gardner. If this briefing has done nothing else, it's convinced me that we can't afford to let a whole week slip by before you start giving your full attention to the Romulan problem."

"Aye aye, sir."

"Now let's go find out what our mystery guest has to say."

T'Pol was waiting patiently for them outside the conference room. "We know the man," she whispered to Trip when he came up beside her.

Trip mouthed the word "Who?" but before she could respond Admiral Tamura waved them inside.

Even before he crossed the threshold, Trip could see Minister Vaaris perched on a large curved bench in the center of the room. He sat slightly hunched over, his small feet barely touching the floor. Next to him sat a man who looked vaguely familiar to Trip. He knew he'd seen that chubby face before . . . but he just couldn't quite place . . .

Suddenly Trip snapped his fingers as his face lit up in recognition.

Kov!"

He strode across the room, circling the unoccupied benches, until he reached his long-ago friend. Kov looked up at him and one corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, but his eyes still held the look of a boy who'd just been sent to the principal's office.

"It is good to see you again, Commander Tucker," Kov said quietly.

Trip was about to ask Kov why he looked so down when he heard the door open again. Looking up, he saw Torok, T'Pau and Soval enter. As soon as three sets of Vulcan eyes locked on Kov, the young man seemed to shrink back.

What was going on here?

Trip put his hand on Kov's shoulder; he wanted him to know that he had at least one friend in the room. "Everything will be okay," he murmured. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, considering that he had no idea just how much trouble Kov was in at the moment, but he wanted to offer some comfort, some support.

Kov looked up at him, two wide eyes filled with gratitude. "Would you sit next to me, Trip?"

"Sure." Trip gave Kov's back a quick pat then he swung his right leg up and over the bench. The left leg quickly followed and he dropped down next to his friend. "What's this all about, Kov?" he asked, concern filing his voice. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"It would appear so." Kov took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're here."

"You know I'll do anything I can to help."

Kov nodded, but the forlorn look on his face remained.

At a loss for anything further to say, Trip watched as the late arrivals took their seats. T'Pau, unlike the men, simply stood quietly in place as one section of the bench slid backward. Once she'd stepped into the circle, the section slid back into place, allowing her to sit gracefully down between Soval and Vaaris. Trip glanced to his left as Malcolm slid over, making room for T'Pol to sit next to Trip. T'Pol chose to follow T'Pau's lead and let the sliding bench do the work for her.

Once everyone was seated, Vaaris methodically looked at every face in turn as he said, "I want it clearly understood that Kov came to me of his own free will. What he has to say today will not significantly change our plan of action, but it does provide us with – as Commander Tucker would say – food for thought." Having completed his introduction, Vaaris nodded in Kov's direction, indicating that the curtain was going up.

Kov glanced at Trip, who gave him a reassuring thumbs-up. The young Vulcan tried to straighten his posture, to look more composed, but to Trip, he still looked like Humpty Dumpty seated on a very shaky wall.

"My father, Minister V'Naar, was troubled by illness for the last six years of his life," Kov said, as he folded his hands tightly in his lap. "He finally decided to leave the High Command two months before the discovery of the Kir'Shara. He died soon after. My family notified me of his death, but the other crewmembers of the _Vahklas_ were not interested in returning to Vulcan, so it took me some time to find a ship willing to transport me. When I returned home my mother made it clear that if I wanted to remain, I must conform to acceptable Vulcan standards of behavior, and I agreed." He took a deep breath. "I knew that with my father gone, it was time for me to assume my rightful place in the family."

Trip noticed several Vulcan heads bob up and down in agreement. If nothing else, Kov had apparently just improved his standing in some quarters.

"Five days ago, one of my father's former colleagues brought me a data disk. The message it contained was only to be delivered to me if I'd provided ample proof of my commitment to renounce my" – Kov nervously chewed on his lower lip – "my, uh, former deviant lifestyle. Evidently I'd passed the test."

"And that disk contained information which you thought would be of interest to the Ministry of Security," Torok said as he shifted his weight, searching for a more comfortable position. "What specifically lead you to that conclusion?" In this instance Trip could certainly sympathize with the High Priest's desire to get to the point.

Kov nodded, his expression growing more serious. "My father revealed that we – my family – are Romulan, not Vulcan."

Stunned, Trip could do little more than stare, open-mouthed, at his friend. Finally he managed to utter, "And you never had any inkling that your family was . . . well, different?" He found it hard to believe that open, friendly Kov and the vicious Romulans he'd come in contact with over the past couple of years had anything in common.

"No." Kov ducked his head and stared fixedly at the floor in front of him. "I was deemed to be too . . . unstable. My father did not believe I could be trusted with the secret until I'd proven myself worthy."

"The message gave a brief outline of Kov's family history," Vaaris explained. "At the Time of Awakening, his ancestors chose to remain behind during the exodus, even though they did not embrace the teachings of Surak. Their sole purpose was the eventual reunification of the Vulcan people – by any means possible. To that end, they have remained in touch with the dissidents who settled on Romulus."

"And worked to undermine the Vulcan government," Minister T'Pau said coldly.

"Yes."

"All these years and no one had any idea that your relatives weren't loyal Vulcans?" Trip asked incredulously. He knew he was plowing the same furrow, but he just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around Kov's true lineage.

"My family's honor has never been challenged," Kov replied. "But you must also keep in mind that until the message from my father arrived, I had no idea that there was any relationship between Romulans and Vulcans. I would imagine that most Vulcans are equally uninformed."

"So there was more to your falling out with your father than his disapproval of your V'tosh ka'tur lifestyle," Torok said.

"Yes. When my father accused me of bringing shame to fifteen generations of my family, I thought he was referring to my refusal to accept a life devoted to logic. But that appears to have been only a partial explanation. Father believed that by becoming V'tosh ka'tur, I was endangering his position in the High Command and our family's security here on Vulcan."

"I begin to see," T'Pol said quietly. "The Romulans are not noted for their self-restraint. By embracing their emotions, the V'tosh ka'tur could be seen as closely linked to the dissidents who fled Vulcan. As Kov said, the vast majority of people would be unaware of any connection to the Romulans, but it would only have taken one of two knowledgeable people to question the reason for Kov's need to express his emotions and his entire family could have been put at risk." She looked directly at Kov. "Your father was right to be concerned."

"That is a logical assessment, T'Pol, but I'm afraid V'Naar wasn't worried about perception," Vaaris said. "He was concerned because he knew the truth of the situation; he knew that the Romulans had, in fact, infiltrated the V'tosh ka'tur."

When Trip felt T'Pol's body tense, he leaned toward her and whispered, "Are you all right?" Without looking in his direction, she gave him a barely perceptible nod. She was doing a good job of maintaining a calm façade, but he could tell that she was deeply disturbed by this revelation. Once again he was grateful for the bond which allowed him to send her a constant stream of moral support.

"The Romulans may be many things," Torok said, "but they are not stupid. I am appalled that this possibility never occurred to us." He smacked his cane firmly against the floor. "We, as a people, tend to turn away from those who fail to meet our standards rather than taking the time to give them a closer look. Now we are being forced to pay the price for our shortsightedness."

"Actually, it does make a lot of sense, when you think about it," Trip said, still keeping a watchful eye on T'Pol. "Their agents could blend in with the V'tosh ka'tur, travel freely, make important contacts, gather information . . ."

". . . and any problems associated with them would be blamed on the Vulcans," Admiral Tamura added, with a thoughtful nod of the head. "Yes, very smart."

"Looking back," Kov said, "I think my father was afraid that the Romulans would use my presence on the _Vahklas_ against him – to force him to take action, even if it was against his better judgment. Apparently his concerns were justified. After we reconciled . . ." He turned toward Trip. "You remember. Just before the _Vahklas_ left _Enterprise_." Trip nodded. "Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of questions about my family, my father and his work with the High Command. I didn't think much of it at the time. It never occurred to me that my shipmates might have an ulterior motive. I thought they were just interested in . . . in me. I didn't answer all their questions, but, looking back, I'm afraid I did tell them more than I should have." His voice trailed off. The guilt he was feeling was clearly written across his face.

"If your father knew what was going on," Trip said, "why didn't he try harder to get you to come home? Once you'd reconciled, I mean."

Kov squirmed slightly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "You may not know, Trip, but I am the last of my line. When I spoke with my father, he knew that even with the most recent medical intervention, he did not have long to live. He also knew that my mother's family was powerful and would be able to offer her protection. That left only me. He told me that he was no longer strong enough to shield me from the consequences of my actions. I told him I understood and was prepared to accept full responsibility."

"Do you know if any of your shipmates made demands on your father?" Malcolm asked.

"Not to my knowledge. But then I really wasn't paying attention."

"In light of these revelations," T'Pau said, "what actions have you taken, Minister?"

Trip noticed that even though T'Pau was addressing Vaaris, her eyes never left T'Pol. Tucker knew about Tolaris, and he knew about the mind meld which had cured T'Pol's Pa'nar Syndrome – T'Pol had insisted that they clear the air when they married – but just how much did T'Pau know? Was it possible that he wasn't the only one who wondered if Tolaris might have gotten more from T'Pol than a few cheap thrills?

"I have ordered the arrest of all V'tosh ka'tur as well as the seizure of their ships," Vaaris replied. "As soon as these individuals are in our hands we can begin to separate the innocent from the guilty. It will take time, but we cannot afford to make any mistakes." He turned to Tamura. "Admiral, I trust we can expect Starfleet's cooperation?"

"I will speak with Admiral Gardner, but I see no reason why Starfleet wouldn't comply with your request. We don't want the V'tosh ka'tur to gain access to any more Starfleet vessels, at least until their loyalty has been proven without question."

"We will keep the lines of communication open," Vaaris said, then he suddenly placed a hand over his midsection and slumped to the right. Before he could fall, T'Pau reached over and steadied him.

"I was afraid of this," she said as Trip, Kov and Malcolm jumped to their feet, ready to offer assistance. "He has still not fully recovered from his injuries."

Vaaris shook his head and shoved her hands away as he struggled into an upright position again.

"I am sorry for my momentary lapse of control," he said in a soft, somewhat shaky voice. "I assure you it will not happen again."

"I think this is as good a time as any to call a halt," Tamura said. "I'm sure we all have pressing matters which require our attention."

"I agree, Admiral," T'Pau said. "I suggest we take some time to consider our current course of action. We are obviously not doing enough to bring an end to the Romulan threat."

Tamura placed his hands on his thighs and, leaning forward, rose slowly from the bench. "We will speak again soon." He bowed from the waist toward T'Pau and Vaaris and then turned and bowed again to Torok and Soval. "Until then, good day."

Tamura started for the door, but he'd only taken a couple of steps before Trip said, "Just a minute. What about Kov? What's going to happen to him?" His eyes darted from face to face. "He's going to prison, isn't he?"

Vaaris took a deep breath and tried to square his shoulders. "Kov is being held in a secure room at the Ministry of Security." He wearily held up a hand when Trip started to protest. "It is well guarded, but it is by no means a prison cell. We have been working diligently to verify his story and clear his name; until we do, a cloud of suspicion will always hang over his head. In the meantime, he has been cooperating with the Ministry to locate members of the V'tosh ka'tur. So far his assistance has been invaluable."

Admiral Tamura's rather pinched expression seemed to indicate that he was a little wary of this lenient treatment, but Trip didn't care. He was just relieved that Kov wouldn't be tossed into jail and forgotten. But this situation might change, he reminded himself. He would have stay on top of things.

Or was he just being naïve?

Tilting his head, Trip took a good, hard look at Kov. Even though he had an open, trusting face, he was still a Romulan. Could he be counted on to tell the truth or did he have some ulterior motive? Was all this openness – running to Vaaris with his shady family history – just some ploy to gain their confidence? It was almost too good to be true. Maybe this was nothing more than a ploy to infiltrate the Ministry of Security and possibly Starfleet Intelligence.

Then again, how did they know Kov really was a Romulan? Out of the clear blue, some guy shows up and hands over a data disk. Who was he? How did they know the information on it really came from V'Naar? Maybe this so-called colleague was the Romulan and Kov was just some innocent victim. But why? Why pick on Kov? What was the point in convincing Kov that he wasn't Vulcan? Who would benefit?

Trip scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. This was getting him nowhere and besides, he had T'Pol to think about.

He looked around and saw that she was standing near the door, listening carefully to Minister T'Pau. He was about to head over there – two against one were better odds – when T'Pau gave a brisk nod and departed. He watched as T'Pol slowly placed both hand up her sleeves and stood, staring off into the distance. She looked so lost. Whatever T'Pau had said to her must have really upset her. But just as he started to go to his wife, Torok walked over and claimed her attention. Trip knew it wouldn't be wise to interrupt them, so he decided to finish the business at hand.

Turning toward Kov, he asked, "Are you okay with this?" Because if you're not . . ."

"On the contrary, Minister Vaaris has been most generous. He has told me about some of the Romulans' activities here on Vulcan, and I understand his concern. I must now focus all my energy on clearing my name, so that I can be of some help in the fight for our planet."

"Good man." Trip started to clap Kov on the shoulder, but thought better of it. Given his friend's decision to reform, he might not appreciate it. "We can certainly use the help. Every time we get a solid lead, they're two steps ahead of us. I'm getting real tired of playing catch up."

Kov nodded in agreement and then slowly began to chew on his lower lip. He looked like a man with something weighty on his mind.

"Is something bothering you, Kov?" Trip asked then waved his hand aimlessly in the air. "I mean something more than this whole Romulan thing."

Kov was silent for a moment then sighed. "I suppose, in a way, my father was right: I could not be trusted. He left me with a secret – one my family had kept for generations – and I betrayed them."

Trip shook his head. "Don't second guess yourself. You did the right thing. If people like you don't step forward, Vulcan won't survive."

"I know , but . . ."

"No buts. The Romulans aren't fooling around. They're reaching out to grab everything they can get in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Control of Vulcan will give them a great big foot in the door."

"I understand. But you see I . . . I always wanted my father to think well of me, and he seldom did. Finally I decided to live life on my own terms. But I always felt the loss of my father's approbation." Kov took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Oh well, it can't be helped."

Suddenly realizing the T'Pol had raised her shields, effectively cutting him off from her feelings and emotions. Trip glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was still standing by the door, her back ramrod straight. Torok was gone and Ambassador Soval was just saying his goodbyes. Now was the time.

"Look, Kov, I'm sorry, but I have to go," Trip said. "If you ever need help, Minister Vaaris knows how to contact me."

"Thank you, Trip, I'll remember that."

Moving quickly, Tucker crossed the room and, taking T'Pol surreptitiously by the right elbow, steered her out of the conference room. They walked down the corridor side by side, the silence between them becoming more oppressive with every step. Finally Trip couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her over to the next room they came to and, opening the door, shoved her in. It was some kind of storeroom, little more than a closet, but it offered privacy and that was his only concern at the moment.

He turned her to face him before pulling her close. "What did T'Pau have to say?" he murmured, his lips mere inches from hers.

"We do not have time for this. Admiral Tamura is waiting."

"Let him wait. Please answer my question."

In the darkened room, Trip couldn't see her brow wrinkle, but he knew the frown was there. She was obviously not pleased with him at the moment, but he couldn't care less. She needed his support and he was going to give it to her, whether she liked it or not.

"Your concern is appreciated," she said coolly, "but it is not necessary. I have not had the time to meditate properly. That is what you are sensing."

"Like hell it is," he shot back. "Look, we aren't leaving until you open up to me, so you might as well get started."

Her body stiffened and she took a step back, bumping into a heavily ladened shelf in the process. Yep, she was definitely pissed.

"Come on, spit it out. What did T'Pau say?"

"Minister T'Pau told me that she didn't think anything I might have revealed to Tolaris during the mind meld would pose a threat."

Trip blinked. That didn't sound too bad, certainly nothing to cause this sort of reaction. There had to be more.

"But you don't believe her?"

Instead of replying, she looked away. He immediately missed the warmth of her breath upon his face.

"That was our first year out, T'Pol," Trip said with conviction. Things have changed a lot since then – we've changed a lot. Outdated information won't do Tolaris or his Romulan buddies any good."

"But if they gained knowledge of Enterprise . . ."

"They didn't."

"How do you know?"

"T'Pol . . ."

She shook her head slowly back and forth. "I was weak. Self-indulgent."

"You made a mistake."

"I . . . wanted to experience emotions."

"That isn't a crime." Trip ran the backs of his fingers over her left cheek, trying to comfort her. "You were living with a bunch of emotional Humans. Of course you were curious."

"You are rationalizing. Vulcan children learn the importance of controlling their emotions at an early age; they are taught that any lapse is unacceptable. I knew there would be a price to be paid, but I still succumbed to temptation. Now we may all suffer for it."

"You don't know that. Tolaris was an emotion junkie, looking for a fix, nothing more."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You know I do." Trip leaned forward to plant a kiss on her lips, but had to settle for a peck on the nose instead. Chatting in the dark left something to be desired. "Besides, you might be worrying for nothing. Tolaris was major league son of a bitch, but we have no proof that he was a Romulan. He might have been Vulcan through and through."

"I still think it would be wise if I told Admiral Tamura of my indiscretion. He should know if our security might have been compromised."

"Okay. But we'll do it together."

T'Pol put her arms around his waist and leaned toward him, placing her head on his shoulder.

Trip placed a kiss on the top of her head and ran his hands slowly over her back, feeling the nubby texture of her robe beneath his fingertips. "Does this mean you're feeling a little better?"

"Yes."

"Good." He gave her a quick squeeze and whispered, "Now let's get out of here. I'm starting to feel like Doctor Phlox's crazy bat."

He reached a hand behind his back and opened the door. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, he ushered her out of the storeroom and down the corridor.

As they walked along, a thought occurred to him. "I saw you talking to Torok earlier. What did he have to say?"

"He found some ancient records in the Sanctuary. He thought they might be of use to us. They date to the Time of Awakening."

Trip frowned. "Isn't ancient Vulcan more complicated than your present-day language? Will you be able to read it?"

"Torok said he would give us any assistance we might need."

"Fine. We'll check with Admiral Tamura on the way back to _Warsaw_. I'm betting he'll want us to head for the Sanctuary tomorrow morning, if not sooner."

"That is assuming, of course, that he is still speaking to us. We have kept him waiting."

"It was worth it." Trip laced his fingers through hers and held on tight. "I'd do it again without a second thought." The look she gave him couldn't really be classed as a smile, but there was no question of the deep love and respect she held for him.

As they approached the launch bay, their hands parted. To a certain extent they were still living a lie, but at least they could be themselves around Admiral Tamura. As long as they didn't behave like horny teenagers. Trip winced. Getting caught in a clinch with T'Pol hadn't been his finest moment.

Trip opened the launch bay door, but before he and T'Pol could enter, Malcolm stepped out, drawing them both aside.

"Don't tell me," Trip said. "The Admiral couldn't wait any longer and he sent you to break the bad news."

"You always were a smart-ass," Malcolm said, and grinned. "Admiral Tamura is still here. He said we'll leave whenever you and T'Pol are ready."

"That's nice of him."

"Actually, Admiral Gardner is the one who's becoming impatient. Captain Archer refuses to leave until he's had a chance to see you, Trip." Reed pointed down the corridor. "He's waiting for you – first room on the left."

Trip took a deep breath. Normally he would have welcomed the chance to see his friend, but now . . . He raised a hand and pointed toward the launch bay. "Everybody's waiting. Maybe it would be better if we put this off until another time."

"You must go," T'Pol murmured, brushing her hand lightly against his. "At least listen to what he has to say."

"All right." He gave her a gentle smile; there was no way he was going to disagree with her after she'd confided in him. He looked over at Malcolm. "First room on the left?"

"That's correct. I'll just go and tell Admiral Gardner the confab is underway, shall I?"

"Thanks a lot," Trip said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"What are friends for?"

After fixing Malcolm with a withering glare, Tucker turned and headed down the corridor. He stopped in front of the first door on the left, squared his shoulders and went in.

Archer turned as soon as he heard the door open. The expressionless look on his face did not inspire confidence. Slowly, the captain folded his arms over his chest and said, "We have to talk."

To be continued


End file.
